Polar Opposites
by Jeunesse
Summary: In a world where mutants are generally accepted, Bobby Drake and Lorna Dane meet in college. Without the X, will love still strike? Most of your favorites will make an appearance at some point.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

Hands on hips, Lorna Dane surveyed the attic room of the house that would be her home while she pursued her post-graduate studies at the very pro-mutant University of Berkeley. One of her new housemates, a very nice if very hurried med student named Jean, had used her incredibly useful telekinetic powers to help carry a few things in before she'd had to rush off to the hospital. Then Lorna had been left alone to drag box after box upstairs, since the rest of her housemates appeared to be MIA.

It was truly amazing just how much crap she'd managed to bring with her. After living more or less like a gypsy for most of her life, moving from dig to dig with her roaming archaeologist of a father, over the past four years of studying at Oxford she'd discovered, much to her dismay, that she really was something of a pack-rat. No wonder the people at British Airways had seemed less than impressed when she'd checked in for her flight. She could only imagine the looks she'd have received if she hadn't shipped some things over before hand. It was as small miracle everything had fit in her (technically her dad's hand-me-down) poor little Beetle.

Lorna dragged a hand through her dark green hair and sighed, looking at the bed somewhat longingly before mentally shaking herself. One more box and she'd be done. Then she had to unpack at least some of her stuff, and _then_ she could relax.

Maybe there was some community beer in the fridge...

Hell, if there wasn't, she was going to go find the nearest store and get some. Because a cold beer and a burger cooked up on the grill she'd seen out on the massive back porch that Jean had shown her during their brief tour sounded like heaven.

Lorna descended the stairs from her room to the second floor. There were five bedrooms there, plus a nice big bathroom. As she walked down the short corridor, she peeked inside any of the rooms whose doors happened to not be closed. All appeared to have occupants, though several looked as if their inhabitants hadn't yet unpacked.

She padded down the stairs to the main floor, which was home to a large communal living room area, a surprisingly big and seemingly well-stocked kitchen, and another bathroom.

The decor throughout the house was very simple, classic, and student-friendly - white painted walls, framed posters, comfortable yet functional furniture. In fact, artwork included, the living room rather looked like a picture from an IKEA catalogue.

Stepping out onto the front porch, Lorna took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was a nice change, being back in California. Her father had taught at Berkeley for a few years, and although she'd been very young at the time, she had good memories of the college and the Bay area. The next few years would be a nice change from living in England, that was for sure.

She hopped down the three steps to the walkway and headed for her red, old-model Bug. Pulling open the passenger-side door, Lorna folder down the front seat and regarded the large cardboard box in the back dubiously. It wasn't only awkward, but it was going to be heavy as hell. She briefly considered waiting for someone else to get home so she could enlist some help, but decided against it. Better just to get it over with.

Face set determinedly, Lorna reached into the back, wrapped her arms around the box and pulled. It shifted, though not much. She tried again, and it moved a little more, and found herself wishing for handy powers like Jean's, rather than just being a walking magnet.

_Come on, Dane, put some muscle into it,_ she ordered herself, before heaving and yanking the thing out of the car.

Awkwardly, she propped the box against the car and kicked the door shut. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the box away from the car, bracing herself for its full weight. It wasn't as bad as she'd expected, really. Confidence boosted, she took a step backwards to turn toward the house... and promptly caught her foot on the small curb leading from the walkway to the driveway.

With an undignified squeak, Lorna stumbled backwards, taking the box with her. The additional weight of her load compromised her balance, and she was unable to recover.

The next thing Lorna knew, she was on her back in the grass next to the walkway, staring up at the wide leaves of a palm tree. The box was crushing her stomach and ribs, making breathing difficult. But she didn't care. All she could think was thank god nobody had been around to witness that little display of elegance and grace.

She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them, blinking in surprise when the palm fronds were no longer all she could see. Instead there was a very concerned looking pair of brown eyes peering at her from over a pair of sunglasses. Lorna blinked again, noting, much to her dismay, that the eyes belonged to a very cute boy.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he quickly lifted the box off of her and crouched down beside her.

Pushing down her mortification, Lorna nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine," she told him, forcing herself to sit up without flinching. Because oh-my-god-_OW_. Her ribs had taken the brunt of the force from the box landing on her, and that hurt. A lot. She looked up at her rescuer and offered a half-smile. "Thanks."

Cute Boy looked at her carefully, clearly not believing her declaration that she was fine. As she awkwardly got to her feet, he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and she leaned against it slightly, grateful though she'd never admit it. Lorna brushed her hands off on her legs, then brushed the seat of her shorts, removing dirt and grass.

Before she knew what was happening, Cute Boy was picking up the box and looking at her expectantly. He smiled at her, motioning with his head towards the house. "Anywhere in particular you want me to put this?"

Lorna started to protest, but her companion shook his head and headed up the steps. "I can get it, really," she protested following him into the house.

"Never said you couldn't," he replied, smiling over his shoulder at her. "So where to?"

Crossing her arms over her chest and managing not to wince at the pain that shot through her ribs, Lorna looked at him consideringly for a moment. He apparently wasn't going to take no for an answer, and she really, really wasn't sure she'd be able to get the box all the way up to the attic by herself. Not with her ribs screaming at her for abuse.

"Upstairs," she finally told him, resignedly.

With a nod and a smile, he headed up the stairs to the second floor. "I'm Bobby, by the way," he said, glancing down over his shoulder at her, "the new kid in the house."

Arching an eyebrow slightly, she followed him. "Lorna. Another new kid," she told him, smiling in spite of herself.

They reached the second floor landing, and Bobby looked at her expectantly. "I'm up in the attic," she told him with an apologetic look, pointing towards the door at the end of the hall.

Bobby sighed melodramatically and let his head hang forward. "Of course you are." Then he glanced up at her, lips quirking, and Lorna rolled her eyes and smirked.

"If it's too much for you, we can just wait for one of the other guys to get back," Lorna suggested casually, slipping her hands in the front pockets of her shorts and cocking her head at Bobby. Her lips twitched slightly as she tried not to grin at the indignant expression that appeared on his face.

Chuckling, Lorna smirked at him. "After you, then," she told him, motioning grandly down the hall.

They made it up to the attic with no further mishaps, and Bobby placed the box down next to the other pile of assorted boxes stacked in the far corner of the room. Looking around, Bobby whistled slowly.

"Nice," he said, nodding appreciatively, then grinned at her. "How'd you score the good room?"

Lorna shrugged and perched on the edge of her desk. Bobby mimicked her, leaning back against the stair case railing and facing her as he slid off his sunglass and hooked them in the neck of his t-shirt. "It was all that was left," she admitted. It had been, and she was thankful. The room was quite big, and came equipped with its own big, color television with DVD player. Definitely worth the extra $200 a month. She couldn't quite keep from smiling. "It _is_ a pretty cool room. Complete with private entertainment center and everything."

Bobby grinned back at her. "What can I use to bribe you for the right to share your entertainment center? Chocolate, clothes, expensive jewelry?" He made a face and shook his head. "Scratch that last one. If I could afford that, I could afford my own TV."

"I'll think about it and let you know," she promised, smirking rather evilly at him. Because really, the possibilities were pretty much endless.

"I don't suppose you'd go easy on me, considering I just rescued you from being crushed by a box," he asked hopefully, turning on his best puppy dog eyes for the occasion.

Lorna's reaction confirmed that he'd have to do more than that, when she shook her head, flipping jade colored bangs into her eyes that she blew away with the ease of considerable practice. "Oh no, you volunteered for that," she replied with a mischievous smirk. "Doesn't count. But don't worry, I'll think of something appropriate."

Sighing, he shook his head melodramatically. "Well, I suppose I could just offer myself into indefinite servitude," he countered, and burst out laughing as she considered his offer for a moment, then nodded.

"That could work," she agreed with a grin that would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame. "I could use a personal slaveboy." She turned her back to him and started pulling open a box, then glanced at him over her shoulder. "You can start keeping me company while I unpack."

"Tell you what – if you let me run down and bring my stuff in first, I'll do you one better and bring up something to drink," he offered. "Beer or soda, assuming there's any of either?"

"I'd kill for a beer," she admitted, and he nodded as he pulled his sunglasses out with a flip and put them back on.

"Beer it is," he agreed, heading out the door and back down the stairs. Things were definitely looking up – not that that was all that difficult, at the moment.

It'd been one hell of a day, thus far. His plane had arrived at the airport two hours late. To add insult to injury, he'd arrived at the house to find that, instead of his cousin's friend Hank waiting for him, the guy'd left a note on the door explaining that he'd been "inexcusably but unavoidably summoned to diagnose a case of intermittent hiccups in a piece of laboratory equipment on campus." Translation: Bobby and his luggage were locked out of the mutant-friendly house his cousin had conned Hank into holding him an open room in as soon as she'd heard he was transferring.

Not a problem, really. He knew his way around the area after having visited Mary there the year before. So he'd hopped a bus to her apartment, grateful that he'd shipped the majority of his belongings ahead, and assuming he could crash at her place for a while. His plan had encountered one unfortunate flaw; neither Mary nor her girlfriend were home when he got there. The call to her cell phone that he should have made before traveling clear across town confirmed that she wouldn't be home until evening, that Denise was out of town for the week, and that his life would be forfeit if he broke into her apartment in any way, shape, or form. And so, still lugging suitcases, he'd returned to the house…just in time to see a green haired girl land flat on her back under a box.

A very pretty green haired girl, who'd been kind enough to let him carry her box full of bricks (or so his back insisted) up two flights of stairs. One who had a beautifully evil grin when she was trying to decide what kind of bribe would give him access to her state of the art entertainment system.

As highpoints of the day went, it wasn't much. But he'd take what he could get.

He reached the front door, only to stumble backwards when the front door swung open just as he was reaching for the knob.

"Oh, my stars and garters," a very large, very blue man wearing a pair of incongruously small, old fashioned glasses exclaimed as he extended a large, furry hand and caught hold of Bobby's arm, helping him regain his balance. "I do apologize; I hadn't realized anyone was inside, though I suppose the unlocked entryway should have provided sufficient notification had I been paying adequate attention. You must be Bobby?" he asked, his smile revealing a pair of rather prominent fangs.

Bobby nodded as he regained his equilibrium. "And you must be Hank," he countered, extending his hand, which the other man took and shook firmly. "Mary talks about you a lot."

"Your cousin is too kind," Hank replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Though perhaps I should inquire as to exactly what she says about me before making such a statement."

"Well, she _did_ mention that you have a tendency to fall asleep in the lab and that she once caught you warming hotdogs over a Bunsen burner, but other than that…" Bobby let his voice trail off, grinning up at the larger man.

Hank nodded, grimacing. "Both true, I'm afraid, though in my defense I did offer to share the hotdogs in question. She declined," he added, shaking his head as if unable to imagine why anyone would refuse Bunsen burner warmed hot dogs.

"Hard to believe," Bobby answered, shaking his head and resolving to check where any of the food in the house had been cooked before eating it. "Anyway, I left my luggage outside; I should probably retrieve it before it wanders off."

Hank nodded. "You should, indeed. And I should check on the experiment I was conducting in the basement before I was so rudely interrupted by the inability of alleged laboratory science professors to…" he continued, rattling off a stream of technical information Bobby understood less than one word of in three before raising one huge hand and wandering off.

Definitely an interesting guy. Peeking out the adjacent window first just to ensure that no one else was about to run him over, Bobby opened the door and headed outside to get his suitcases. Just in time to see them floating their way up the walk behind a tall, rather frazzled looking redhead.

"Are these yours?" she asked, then shook her head. "Sorry, you must be Bobby, right? I'm Jean."

Bobby nodded, but before he could do more than open his mouth to reply, his bags landed in front of him with a plop, and the young woman had already continued speaking.

"I'm sorry, I really don't mean to be rude, but I'm in a huge hurry," she said, offering him an apologetic smile, her eyes casting around the room. "You haven't seen a pager around anywhere, have you?"

"I believe I heard echoes of its distinctive mechanical cadences drifting down from the kitchen," Hank's voice called out, presumably from the basement stairs, and Bobby watched as Jean smiled, then closed her eyes in obvious concentration.

"I forgot, I set it down by the phone earlier," Jean said by way of explanation as the pager in question floated past him to land in her hand. "We'll talk later, ok?" she added with another smile as she turned to head back out the door. "I'm supposed to be on rounds in five minutes, and there is _no way_ I'm going to make it on time."

"Nice to meet you – and thanks!" Bobby called out to her retreating back, then chuckled as he picked up his suitcases and headed off toward the kitchen in search of the beer. One thing seemed certain; living here was definitely not going to be boring.

Suitcases stashed in the empty room he was assuming for lack of evidence to the contrary to be his, Bobby made his back up the extra flight of stairs to the attic, beers in hand. Trying to figure out just _why_ he'd just sold himself into slavery for the right to use Lorna's entertainment center.

Well… a reason other than those incredibly green eyes, anyway. Because he wasn't going to make that mistake again. Especially not with a housemate. Recent experiences with Opal had taught him that much, if nothing else.

"Sorry about the delay – it was a madhouse down there," he said with an apologetic smile as he pushed thoughts of Opal aside. Entering the room, he glanced around, noting that Lorna had made quite a bit of progress with her unpacking already. "Looks like you've been busy," he observed, raising his eyebrows. "Ready for a break? I've got the beers," he grinned, holding up the bottles as evidence.

"A break would be good," Lorna agreed, setting down a stack of books on her desk and crossing the room to flop down on her bed, flinching only slightly as she jarred her sore ribs. She took one of the bottles, twisted off the cap, and raised in it a toast. "To new housemates?" she suggested.

She watched in amusement as Bobby struggled with his own bottle, giving the cap a dirty look before finally managing to twist it off (after she gave it a little, unnoticeable twist with her powers). With a smile, he raised his bottle. "To new housemates."

He nodded and took a long pull from his bottle before setting it down and looking around her room. "So, what did you do with all the bricks, anyway?"

Lorna scowled and reached out with her foot to kick him lightly as she took a sip from her own bottle. "Books, not bricks," she corrected, rolling her eyes. Her lips twitched in amusement. "Y'know, the big bound paper things some people use to study with...?"

Bobby nodded slowly, in mock-consideration. "Y'know, I've heard of those… not sure I've ever seen one, though," he admitted, lips twitching and big brown eyes dancing mischievously.

Raising her bottle again, Lorna arched an eyebrow, took a sip, then smirked at him. "And this should surprise me why?"

A very fake astonished look appeared on Bobby's face, causing an actual grin to appear on her lips. "What, are you trying to imply I don't look like the studious type? I'll have you know I spent whole days in the library last year." He sniffed indignantly, but was quite obviously fighting not to grin.

Letting out a snort of laughter, Lorna smirked at him. "Hitting on the cute girls studying there doesn't count."

Laughing, he shook his head and gave her a sheepish look. "Sleeping, actually. My roommate was a nightmare."

"Ouch," Lorna winced, shaking her head sympathetically. "Sorry. Is that the reason behind the change in living quarters?"

"Just moved here, actually," he told her with a grin. "Transfer student, NYU. How 'bout you?"

So they weren't just the new kids to the house, they were the new kids to the school. Something else to bond over, Lorna noted. "I'm a transfer, too. Just starting post-grad work." She took a sip of her beer. "Why the move from NYU?"

"Change of scenery," he replied with a shrug and a half smile. Something about the look on his face told Lorna there was more to the story than he was letting on, but she wasn't going to pry at this point. "And Mary's been on my butt to move out here for years, so I figured why not?"

"Girlfriend?" she asked, head cocked to one side, refusing to acknowledge that maybe she was more than just a little curious.

He burst out laughing and shook his head. "Cousin. She's a grad student here."

Lorna nodded, impressed. "What's she studying?"

The almost embarrassed look on Bobby's face had her eyebrows arching high while she waited for his reply. "Ummm... parapsychology? She's had this lifelong dream of being a ghost buster. You know, run around with a camera crew and check out people's stories about haunted houses, stuff like that." He grinned, and Lorna could see the very obvious affection he held for his cousin, no matter how weird he thought she was. "She's working on her thesis, now. Can't wait to hear all the gory details."

"I think that sounds pretty cool, actually," Lorna admitted. With her powers, her (somewhat irritating) ability to see magnetic fields, she'd seen some things over the years that had prompted some late night hidden readings on the subject of ghosts. The Internet was a fantastic tool when you didn't want flatmates knowing what you were up to. "How 'bout you? What's your academic poison?"

She almost regretted asking as Bobby adopted an embarrassed look. "Drama major?" he offered, making it a question.

Laughing, Lorna shook her head and smiled gently at him. "Why do you say it like that?"

Bobby rolled his eyes and grinned. "Because I'm used to everyone saying," his face changed, going almost blank, his voice completely even, "Oh. That's nice." Lorna chuckled as he shrugged. "Besides, trying to decide if I should switch to something more practical."

Lorna shifted on the bed, leaning back and propping herself up on her elbows so she could watch him. "If it's something you're having fun with, there's absolutely nothing wrong with it." She took a sip of her beer, then cocked her head at him consideringly. Drama somehow made sense for him. There was something about him, a quality that made you want to look at him, to pay attention to him. He was inherently likeable, which she supposed was a good thing as an actor. "What're you thinking about changing to?"

"Oh, I don't know," he began with a sigh and a shrug. "Business Administration or something, I guess. Maybe accounting. Something I might conceivably be able to pay rent on. There's that whole guaranteed paycheck thing, y'know."

Lorna pulled a face. "God, business admin? Why would you want to do that to yourself? There are countless other ways to bring in a paycheck than sacrificing your soul to the world of business."

Bobby shrugged noncommittally, then raised his bottle and took a drink before looking at her curiously. "How 'bout you? What brings you to San Fran?"

Lorna mimicked Bobby, taking a drink from her own bottle. "Berkeley's got one of the best post-grad programs anywhere in ancient history and Mediterranean archaeology. Couldn't resist it."

"Mediterranean archeology?" he repeated, eyebrows raised. "Wow, that sounds intense."

"Not really," she replied, taking a sip of beer at the same time he did. "Boring as hell to a lot of people, definitely, but intense?" Lorna shrugged. "I dunno. It's a labor of love for me, so I don't really look at it that way."

She watched as Bobby settled back in his chair and pinned her with a curious look. "Why archeology? If you don't mind me asking, that is".

"I was raised with it," she replied with a crooked smile. "My dad's an archaeologist, and I grew up all over the world, traveling with him from dig to dig. He quite literally taught me everything he knew." She took another sip of her beer and her lips curled into a fond smile as she thought back to her childhood experiences with her dad. "It just seemed natural for me to follow in his footsteps."

Bobby smiled, and Lorna couldn't quite help but notice just how nice a smile he had. He was definitely very cute, a fact she really shouldn't be noticing about someone she had to live with for the next god only knew how long. That kind of complication was something to be avoided.

Not that cute, sweet boy-next-door types usually fell for her anyway, so it was rather a moot point. Lorna was quite used to being considered just one of the boys by guys like Bobby. Irritating though it may be, it was just a fact of life.

"Sounds like a fun way to grow up," he observed with a grin, and Lorna nodded in agreement. "My dad took me to work once for 'take your kid to work day'. It lasted about an hour." Bobby shook his head and chuckled. "He was unimpressed with me trying to photocopy my face, called my mom to have her come get me."

Lorna burst our laughing, having absolutely no problem imagining that. "Jeez, I can't picture you pulling anything like that at all."

Bobby laughed, too, and offered her a mischievous grin. "Yeah well, I was eight. Besides, Mary egged me on. Might not have been too big a deal, if she hadn't been trying to fax them using the autodial feature on the fax machine."

"Oh man," she laughed, wincing slightly. "Why do I think it's a very bad thing that you two are at the same college now?"

Bobby shook his head. "No clue. We were perfectly well behaved kids," he insisted with a serious, innocent expression that Lorna wasn't buying for a second.

Eyeing him skeptically, she took another sip from her nearly empty bottle of beer. "Riiiiiight. Sounds like."

"Well, it was a long time ago, anyway," he relented with a laugh. "Besides, the chances of us ending up in the same building at any given time are practically nil, so it should be pretty safe."

Lorna smirked. "Thank god for that."

"Okay, we're getting off _this_ subject, or my reputation will be in shreds before I even start class," Bobby announced, shaking his head. "Where'd you undergrad?"

Lorna raised her bottle. "Oxford," she replied, then took a sip and smiled crookedly at him. "Year-round sunlight will be a nice change."

Bobby shuddered dramatically. "Yeah, I bet. Ouch. Well, now we know the _real_ reason you came here," he said with a wink.

"Absolutely," she deadpanned. "I plan on spending all my waking hours on the beach. Couldn't you tell?"

Bobby gave her a knowing look and nodded. "I suspected as much. The books are just smoke screen."

"Yup. A very heavy, convincing smoke screen."

"Well, that or you brought them just to see if you could carry them up the stairs," he suggested with a laugh, before looking at her with concern. "You okay? You really did land hard..."

Lorna shrugged and offered Bobby a half smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Embarrassed, a little bruised, probably, but okay." She looked up at him and smiled crookedly. "I guess I owe you one."

Bobby chuckled and shook his head. Tipping up his beer, he drained it and eyed the empty bottle ruefully. "No problem," he replied with a grin. "You can let me use your TV."

Lorna sighed sadly. "So that's what it always comes back to, huh, the TV? Fine. I guess hauling that box upstairs does entitle you to a couple of freebies. In fact, if you want to go get us a couple of refills, you can have full reign over the TV while I finish unpacking." She smirked evilly at him. "We can talk about the indentured servitude thing in exchange for TV privileges later."

* * *

**_Coming soon: Chapter 2_**

_**Feedback would be welcomed with open arms!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

Bobby laughed Rogue as she floored the gas pedal on her sporty red convertible and ripped out into the intersession, leaving the Harley that had been gunning its engine besides them a the stoplight in the dust.

"Take _that_, Cajun!" she shouted, glancing in her rear view mirror as she waved at the motorcycle behind her.

"I kinda doubt he can hear you," Bobby grinned over at her before glancing behind him, just in time to see the auburn haired man return Rogue's wave, his grin obvious even though he was now several car lengths back.

"Doesn't matter, Sugar," Rogue assured him, weaving around a slow-moving Cadillac in front of her in the lane, much to the annoyance of the car they nearly cut off. "He knows it well enough anyway."

Bobby chuckled as he settled back in his seat, trying to ignore Rogue's more blatant attempts at vehicular suicide. "Y'know, I'd really like to get home in one piece, if it's all the same to you," he joked, wincing as they once again changed lanes, missing the car behind them by mere inches. "You may be invulnerable, but I'm not."

"I can take ya back to the campus and let ya walk home if you're set on insulting my driving," she threatened, narrowing her eyes menacingly.

Bobby laughed and shook his head. "Wonderful driving," he assured her, having little doubt she'd do as she threatened. Rogue was a blast, definitely one of his favorite new housemates – but there were a few subjects she was prickly about. Her gloves and her driving were at the top of the list. The first he could understand, given the nature of her mutation. The second…well, getting a ride home beat the trolley, and was a lot faster. A whole lot faster, given the way Rogue drove.

"Good, 'cause we're almost home, and with the price of gas these days, I'd hate to waste it hauling your butt back and forth," she smirked, settling back in her seat and grinning broadly. "B'sides, Ah got me a date tonight with the Cajun we left back there eating our dust. Need to get home and get ready."

"Oooh, a date," Bobby teased, earning him a sharp punch to the shoulder.

"Yes, a date. Y'know, where y'all go out, see a movie, get something to eat…" she grinned, her face flushing slightly. "After that…well, we'll just see, won't we? Not many guys want to take their lives into their own hands, if ya know what I mean."

Bobby nodded, fighting an urge to look over at his housemate sympathetically. He'd learned, over the past few days, that the last thing Rogue wanted was pity over her mutation. Personally, just thinking about hers made him awfully glad to be the resident ice cube maker at the house. Murphy'd worked overtime on Rogue's genetics, apparently.

"Hey, new arrival?" Bobby asked as they approached the house and he saw a taxi pull up in front, discharging a blonde, very poised looking woman who got out and began, apparently, issuing orders to the driver.

"Nah, just Emma. She went to Europe for the summer, if'n you can believe that." Rogue shook her head, then looked at him, a serious expression on her face. "Ya watch yourself around her, you hear? She's an odd one."

"Odd how?" Bobby asked curiously, but Rogue just shook her head.

"You'll see. Just don't get her cornered, and you should be okay," Rogue replied as they pulled into the driveway and parked.

Bobby rolled his eyes and sighed. "You can't tell me anything more than that?".

Rogue just laughed as she shut off the car. "C'mon in, ya can meet her, see what you think. But I wouldn't trust her no further than I could throw her," she replied.

xXx

Scott Summers, Lorna decided, as she sat in the living room chatting with him, was officially a nice guy. She liked him. He wasn't quick to smile, but when he did, there was something rather boyish about him in spite of the fact that he was in his mid-20's. Reserved and rather quiet, Lorna hadn't been entirely sure about Scott's match with the outgoing Jean, but the little she seen of them together, their relationship really seemed to work.

At 26, Scott was still working on his undergrad degree, having spent a few years working after finishing high school, and then another couple of years trying to see the world while he had the chance, before he got bogged down with school and then real life. It turned out that he and Lorna had spent a lot of time in the same places.

"Haci Abdullah," Lorna told him, when asked for her favorite restaurant in Istanbul. She grinned as Scott nodded enthusiastically.

"Best pilav I had over there," he agreed. "They did something different with the spices."

"Did you get to the archaeological museum?" she asked, knowing from talking with Jean that he was a bit of hobby historian.

Again, he nodded, causing brown bangs to flop down over his forehead. He swiveled on the sofa to better face her in the oversized armchair she was sitting in. "Went back a couple of times – did one building each trip so I could take my time. My favorite piece was Treaty of Kadesh. The world's first peace treaty. Just amazing. I guess you would have visited Ephesus?"

"Oh yeah," she confirmed. "My dad was advising on a small restoration project out there. We used Kusadasi as our base for a couple of weeks, and drove out to the site every day."

"I stayed in Kusadasi for two months, worked in a resort to earn some more money before I went over Italy, via Greece," he told her with the closest thing to a grin she'd seen from him. "Learned to really hate tourists, and became really conscious about not acting like them."

Lorna laughed. "God, I know. I remember –"

Whatever else she'd been about to say was lost when the front door opened an in breezed a tall, elegant blond woman. She paused dramatically just inside the front door and took off her sunglasses. "You can take the bags upstairs," she ordered someone unseen. "First door on your left."

A man, apparently a taxi driver, scurried past her lugging two massive suitcases, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. With a nod, the blond dismissed her pack mule and turned towards the living room. She smiled broadly, slowly and, Lorna thought, rather seductively when she spotted Scott.

"Scott," she said, striding elegantly into the room, pristine white sundress swishing around her long legs. "What a pleasant surprise. Let me guess: you heard I was coming back today, and you wanted to be the first to greet me?"

Expressionless but already bristling, Lorna watched as Scott smiled back. "Hi Emma. Have a good summer?"

"It was simply _exhausting_," she complained, pouting prettily. "So many parties, so many people, so little me to go around."

Lorna couldn't keep from rolling her eyes. Whoever this Emma was, Lorna already disliked her. First of all, she was very obviously flirting with Jean's boyfriend, which was a great big no. Second, she was far too… _everything_. Too beautiful, too sure of herself, too composed.

Scott chuckled slightly, and motioned over to Lorna. "Emma, this is Lorna. She took Ororo's room."

Emma turned sharp, icy blue eyes Lorna's way, as if noticing her for the first time. She gave Lorna a thorough once-over, before her gaze froze on Lorna's hair. Taking a few steps forward, Emma reached out and fingered a lock. "I hope to god you sued the salon that did this," she said, then pulled her hand back as if she would somehow be tainted by the very act of touching Lorna's hair. "It's simply awful."

Jerking her head away, Lorna glared up the woman, who had already turned back to Scott, who was looking rather embarrassed. Up until this point, Lorna had liked all of her housemates, including the two girls – which was unusual for her. Usually she didn't get along well with other women, but Jean and Rogue were very easy to be around. Unlike this blond bitch.

Oh yes. She definitely predicted problems between the two of them.

"I'll have to talk to the others," Emma said, dismissing Lorna completely and sitting on the couch next to Scott – far too close to him for Lorna's liking. She crossed one long leg over the other and leaned in towards him. "I wasn't aware Ororo was leaving, or else I would have taken the loft. Obviously. It will be easy enough to switch."

Her attention so focused on Emma, Lorna barely noticed Bobby and Rogue as they came into the house. She completely missed the look Bobby gave the southern girl before the two of them stepped into the living room.

"I'm not moving," Lorna informed the other girl, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It was supposed to be _my_ room," Emma snapped, turning her cold gaze to Lorna once again.

"Well, apparently not, because they rented it to _me_. I signed the lease for that space. It's mine."

"Surely we can work something out," the blond said, making it clear that she expected to win.

"Absolutely," Lorna nodded, tone clipped. "I'll keep my room, you keep yours. It'll work out perfectly."

Emma narrowed her eyes, and Lorna met her gaze unflinchingly. There was no way in hell this woman was going force her out of a room that was rightfully hers. Lorna's head swam suddenly, and she experienced an odd sort of feeling of being invaded that was gone so quickly she was sure she must've imagined it.

Sitting back on the sofa, Emma pursed her lips and pinned Lorna with a look that the green haired-girl was loath to admit unnerved her, but did. It was like those icy blue eyes were looking right through her and learning all her secrets. Finally, however, Emma noticed that there were two new arrivals in the room. The smile she directed at Rogue wasn't exactly warm, but it conveyed the impression that she wasn't entirely displeased to see her. Then her eyes shifted to Bobby, and Lorna tensed as the blond gave her closest friend in the house the once over.

Oh no. She'd better not even _think_ about it.

"Don't tell me you've actually managed to go out and find yourself a boyfriend," Emma observed, arching one perfectly manicured brow at Rogue, her lips curling up at the side in a manner that struck Lorna as decidedly ugly.

And things were going to get nasty in a hurry, judging by the expression on Rogue's face. Luckily, Scott jumped in to try to defuse things before they go out of hand.

"How's that beauty of a car of yours running, Rogue?" he asked, scooting forward slightly on the couch. Likely so he could get up and intervene should Rogue make a lunge for Emma's throat.

Rogue's mouth was open, but she shut it quickly, glaring daggers at Emma before turning to Scott. Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're just sayin' that because you're still after me to let you take it for a spin."

"It's a great car," Scott admitted with a shrug and a half smile.

Bobby, for his part, looked rather stunned by the exchange between Emma and Lorna, but quickly gave Scott a slightly less genuine than usual grin. "Yeah, it's definitely running. Not sure how it's still in one piece with the way she drives, but amazingly enough it still is. Not quite so sure about me." He glanced down at himself as if to make sure, then grinned over at Rogue.

In spite of herself, Lorna chuckled. Those two were always nattering at each other. It was highly entertaining.

Smacking Bobby's shoulder, Rogue scowled at him playfully. "Didn't Ah tell you not to cut on my driving?"

Emma raised her pale blond eyebrows and looked at Bobby disapprovingly. "I see you don't have him housebroken yet. Perhaps a rolled up newspaper?"

"Is that all you need to keep your men in line?" Lorna asked snarkily, eyebrow cocked at Emma. "I was thinking you'd have to keep them chained in the basement." The blond cast Lorna a tired look and tossed her hair gracefully, clearly beyond coming up with a rebuttal.

Bobby just blinked at Emma in apparent shock, and shook his head even as he extended his hand toward her. "I'm Bobby. Your new housemate, not Rogue's boyfriend. Ummm, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go grab something to eat. Anyone interested?"

Unfolding herself from her chair, Lorna nodded, casting a glare at Emma. "Yeah, food sounds good."

"I'm sure it does, dear," Emma remarked, pointedly ignoring Bobby's still outstretched hand, gaze once again drifting pointedly to Lorna's hair. "Comfort food is always appropriate after a trauma like you've endured."

Lorna rolled her eyes as she crossed the room toward Bobby, who had finally withdrawn his hand.

"Oh, and Laura."

She paused, teeth clenched, not bothering to correct Emma as she turned toward her. A small card was being extended towards her, and Lorna took it, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"It's my stylist," Emma explained, voice sickeningly sweet. "There's a colorist there who is an absolute genius. I'm sure he'd be able to do something with that travesty of yours." With a self-satisfied smirk, Emma sank back into the couch. "Tell them I sent you."

Flipping the card back at Emma without a word, Lorna turned and stalked out of the room, grabbing Bobby's hand as she passed him and dragging him along with her toward the kitchen. From behind them, she could hear Rogue's slightly confused voice. "Why am Ah getting the impression Ah missed somethin' important here?"

Bobby let Lorna drag him into the kitchen, a bewildered expression on his face. Okay, that was beyond bizarre. Now he understood why Rogue hadn't elaborated further on Emma's personality. It truly had to be experienced to be believed.

Still, he had the distinct feeling he'd missed something, apparently with regards to Lorna's hair. Shaking his head, he asked, "What was _that_ all about?"

Lorna let go of his hand, then plopped down into one of the chairs at the table and scowled. "Charming, isn't she?"

Bobby simply rolled his eyes and grinned. "Well, that's not the word I'd've thought of, but I guess it works." Cocking his head, he studied Lorna's face, more than a little concerned. "You okay?"

Apparently not, he decided as she sighed, then blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Yeah. Other than wanting to kill our newest housemate, I'm just fine."

"Nah, killing's over too quick," he replied, not entirely buying into her reassurance. "You need to get her where she lives." He sat down across the corner of the table from Lorna, and pretended to give the matter some serious thought. "I'm thinking her make-up case," he said after a few moments, nodding seriously.

Ahhh yes. Lorna was definitely fighting a grin, he determined, absently noting that her eyes sparkled a really brilliant green when she was amused. He got to his feet again and headed toward the refrigerator. "Y'know," he began, pausing to look at Lorna, his smile growing distinctly mischievous, "you've gotta wonder just how she knows that the colorist there is that great..."

Lorna snorted in response and rolled her eyes. "Are you suggesting that she might not be a true and pure blonde? Perish the thought!"

He covered his face with his hand, shuddering dramatically. "I know. How could I even think such a thing!" Dropping his hand, he revealed a mischievous grin as he looked over at her. "Next time she's around, we check her roots. Agreed?"

"Can we knock her out to make it easier?" Lorna smirked. "And more fun?"

Bobby laughed and shook his head. "Tempting though it is, she seems the type who'd have a line of lawyers outside in 0.2 seconds. We'd have to make it look like an accident." He paused to consider that for a moment, a slow smile spreading on his face as he leaned against the countertop. "We could accidentally drop something out your window just as she was walking underneath, though. That could work."

Lorna grinned. An evil grin, he noted absently, and a distinctly contagious one at that. "Have I told you that I love the way you think?"

Returning her grin, he considered her question seriously. "Y'know, I don't think you have. But it's good to know," he admitted, winking at her before pushing himself up from the counter. "And now that you're smiling, want some dinner? Gotta earn my TV viewing rights, after all..."

Lorna nodded, and he watched as she settled back in the chair, getting comfortable and apparently over her trauma, whether hair or roommate induced. "Dinner would be great, thanks. It's nice to have someone catering to every food whim," she added with a definite smirk.

Bobby simply arched his eyebrow and grinned. "Well, I wouldn't go that far. You start asking for chocolate covered anchovies or something and you're on your own."

Lorna made a face, and he laughed as he turned to look in the refrigerator. "Gimme some credit," she said from behind him.

"Oh, I do," he assured her as he rummaged through the fridge. Hmmm… hamburger meat, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, tortillas...tacos didn't sound bad. He plopped everything down on the counter and began digging through cabinets for a strainer and fry pan. That could work…

"So, what're you making me?"

"What do you think of tacos?" he asked as he stood up with strainer in hand, glancing over his shoulder and grinning.

"Tacos'll work," she agreed, and he turned back to the counter, setting the strainer in the sink. At least Lorna seemed to have cheered up a bit. Not that he could blame her for having been upset; he hadn't been half the target of Emma's snark that she had, and he was still twinging a bit himself.

Picking up the lettuce, he shifted over to the sink and began ripping off leaves. "So… about this slave boy thing – do I get a collar with an ownership tag and everything?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "Wouldn't want anyone jumping your claim..."

That earned him a genuine, full out laugh. "Oh, definitely," she told him. "A nice big shiny tag that reads, 'Slaveboy of Lorna Dane. If found, please return promptly so he can be thoroughly flogged'."

"Flogged!" he choked out amidst laughing, nearly dropping the whole head of lettuce as he flipped around to look at her. Okay, obviously she was kidding, but still. Flogging seemed a bit drastic. "And here I had you pegged for the merciful type," he said, shaking his head and fighting not to grin back at her. "You wouldn't actually flog me, would you?" he asked with a pout, turning puppy dog eyes on her.

"It would depend on the severity of the transgression," she told him, nodding mock-seriously. "Not doing a good job on a task, a verbal reprimand should suffice. Something like running away, though, that would definitely require a flogging." Finally she did lose it a little bit, and grinned at him. "I'll have to come up with some rewards for you, too. Incentive is a powerful tool."

"Ice cream's always good," he observed, then grinned and shrugged. "And, it's not an incentive, per se, but would you mind looking around for a cutting board?" he asked as he turned on the water and sprayed off the lettuce, glancing over to make sure the hamburger wasn't doing anything it wasn't supposed to. Burning would be bad. Luckily, it seemed to be okay, and by the time he turned back, Lorna'd already located the cutting board in question and set it down on the counter beside him.

"Okay, so where do you want me?" Lorna asked. "I'm all yours."

Biting back a retort he suspected – no, _knew_ – he'd get slapped for, Bobby considered the question as actually intended. "Can you go stir the meat while I start chopping things up?" he asked as he set the tomato down on the cutting board and pulled a knife out of the drawer next to him. "Of if you want to look around and see if there's one of those little packages of taco seasoning, that'd be cool, too."

"How 'bout I do both?" Lorna asked, and he watched as she headed over to the stove, gave the ground beef a good stir and turned the temperature down slightly. Then she headed for the cupboards again, presumably on the hunt for taco seasoning.

He really should've found everything before he started, he mused as he pulled a knife from the drawer and began chopping the lettuce. He hadn't done much cooking the last couple of days, and really didn't have much of any idea where anything was with the exception of plates and glasses. It was nice of her to help, especially since he was the one who'd offered to make her dinner. Still…

"Y'know," he added with a grin, "if this is an attempt to cheat me of my ice cream, you can just go sit back down. I've got it under control."

Lorna laughed again, smirking at Bobby over her shoulder as she dug through an upper cupboard. "Don't worry, you'll get your ice cream," she promised. "We should probably go find a good place, establish ourselves as regulars and all that. Ha! Taco mix!" she announced with a grin.

Chuckling, he set down the knife and applauded for a moment before retrieving it and getting back to work on the lettuce.

"So what's your favorite ice cream flavor?" Lorna asked as she crossed over to him and leaned her hip against the counter. "You strike me as a strawberry kind of guy. Or maybe Rocky Road?"

"Nope. Cookies and cream, hands down," he replied, scraping the lettuce off to the side and starting on the tomatoes.

Lorna nodded in approval and hopped up onto the counter. She had a tendency to perch whenever the opportunity presented itself, he'd noticed. "An excellent choice," she agreed.

"How 'bout you?" he countered as he set the knife down and moved over to fish out a couple of bowls, pausing at the stove to give the hamburger a perfunctory stir. "I'd guess butter pecan or mint chocolate chip," he said, pretending serious consideration.

"Not even close," she disagreed, crinkling her nose in distaste. "I like the basics. Chocolate is my favorite, and if there's caramel or something swirled through it, even better. Vanilla with chocolate in it is also acceptable. Okay, next important question," she began, from partially inside a cupboard. "How do you prefer your ice cream, in cup or a cone? And if you're a cone man, what kind – plain, sugar, waffle, or other?"

The conversation continued from, covering such important topics as ice cream toppings, desserts, ethnic foods, and alcoholic beverages. Lorna, he decided as he chopped and stirred, was ridiculously easy to talk to. Even when she asked the all important question…

"Comfort food? Guys don't do comfort food," Bobby answered with a superior grin, trying to get two plastic bottles of soda and one glass jar arranged in his hands so he could get them to the counter. Finally managing it, he carried them over and set them down.

"Oh, I _so_ call bullshit," Lorna laughed. "Guys totally have comfort food. It's just a matter of whether they can admit it or not."

"Oh fine," he conceded. "Sugar Bombs, out of the box, or M&Ms. How 'bout you?" he countered as he headed back to retrieve the tortillas.

"Anything chocolate," she admitted somewhat sheepishly. "And anything loaded with fat. I'm very much a typical girl that way."

Typical, Bobby decided as he retrieved the tortillas and carried them over to the counter, then moved over to the stove to check on the hamburger, was way too boring a word to describe Lorna. Interesting, amazing, funny, gorgeous – yes. But definitely not typical.

He moved over to the stove to give the hamburger one last stir. "I think this is pretty much done," he observed, turning off the heat on the stovetop and looking around for some sort of hot pad or something to set the fry-pan down on.

"Good, I'm starving." Lorna picked a large piece of ground beef out of the pan to taste, and nodded her approval. "Very good," she told him. "Let's eat."

"There won't be anything left _to_ eat if you keep snitching," he scolded in an unconscious imitation of his Aunt Gladys, waving the hot-pad at her hand, then laughed and shook his head. "Man, I think I'm channeling my aunt. Scary. Seriously, go sit down, I've got it." He picked up the fry pan and carried it over to the counter, setting it down on the pad, then turned back to grab plates.

She shook her head and chuckled, offering him a shrug. "Who am I to deny you your slaveboy duties?" she asked rhetorically, then returned to her seat at the table. _"_So, I repeat: feed me," she ordered with a smirk.

Bobby burst out laughing as he came around the counter to sit down, setting the plates down next to the fry pan.

"Feed you, huh? Jeez, do I have to do _everything_ around here?" With a long-suffering sigh, he put a tortilla on her plate and scooped a spoonful of meat into the center.

"Anything you _don't_ want on this?" he asked, grinning mischievously. He was more than willing to play along with the game, but had to wonder just how well taco and hot sauce would go with green hair. He really wasn't entirely sure just how one went about feeding someone else a taco, but it should be a lot of fun figuring it out.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, she smirked, and waited expectantly. "Nope. Load it up."

Bobby laughed, but he took her at her word and scooped liberal amounts of the lettuce, cheese, and tomatoes onto the tortilla, then glanced over at the salsa. No spoon. Damn, knew he'd forgotten something. Unscrewing the lid, he carefully poured a small amount out of the jar, then folded up the taco and presented the plate to her with a flourish.

"Your dinner is served, milady. Unless you really do want me to feed it to you...?" he asked with a grin, "but I think that'd work better with grapes or something than tacos."

Lorna accepted the plate with a nod of approval. "Nice work, slaveboy. I just might have to keep you around for a while," she told him with a smirk. "And no, let's wait for something less prone to fall apart for you to actually try feeding me. I don't want to wear this stuff, after all."

Already scooping taco fillings onto a tortilla of his own, Bobby grinned at her, stifling a laugh as he noticed the smear of salsa on her face. Maybe he'd put a bit too much into the taco. Or not, because she looked awfully cute...

_"You definitely deserve your ice cream later today," she observed, rolling her eyes as she followed his gaze and wiped the salsa off her face. _

"Do I get my TV rights for the week, too?" he asked hopefully as he took the seat next to her. "I mean, I've already sworn myself to indefinite servitude, proven my worth, and agreed to wear a collar labeling me property of Lorna Dane – which I will," he grinned, "but you have to provide it. Seems to me I've earned it," he observed with a smirk, surreptitiously cooling his own taco to lukewarm before taking a bite. Mmmm... she was right. Not bad at all.

"Nope, no TV yet," she told him with a smirk. "You have to do something really outstanding to earn that. Dinner just doesn't cut it. Sorry."

She didn't look the least bit sorry, he noted as he took a bite from his taco. Not that he really minded, he had to admit. Especially since he knew from prior experience that she'd let him watch the TV anyway, so long as she wasn't studying.

"We'll have to go shopping for your collar and tag. Because I'm going to call your bluff," Lorna informed him, waving a warning finger at him. "You'll be wearing that before you know it."

"It's not a bluff," he argued. "I told you – you buy it, I'll wear it. We can go get it tomorrow if you want. We need to set some rules, though," he added mock-seriously, shaking his finger at her. "No transferring ownership or anything. I promised to be YOUR slave, not our housemates'" he pointed out with a grin. "They can find their own."

"Don't worry," she assured him, shaking her head and letting bangs flop in her eyes again. She blew them away before continuing. "I don't share my slaves. They're mine, and mine alone."

"You make a habit of this, then?" he joked, shaking his head sadly and covering his eyes. "And here I thought I was unique. What a disappointment," he concluded, then broke down and grinned as he unscrewed the top of his soda bottle.

Lorna nodded seriously. "I have a whole stable of slaveboys to choose from. Unfortunately, I had to leave them all scattered across the world. Most of them are in Europe at the moment. You're my only American model." She smirked. "You should feel special."

"I do," he admitted, his grin softening into a smile, then shook his head. Okay, they were just joking around, he reminded himself. No reason to take that comment as any less a joke than the ones before it. Still…maybe a change of topic was in order.

"I'm surprised no one else has popped in to help themselves," he observed.

"I don't know where everyone else is," she admitted. "It's kinda weird that we've been here so long without anyone else showing up to mooch."

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, pausing to take a drink. "I'm really not complaining, though. It's been fun," he said honestly, shrugging his shoulders and smiling self-consciously.

Lorna blinked and then grinned at him. "Yeah, it has been," she nodded, and kicked his foot lightly with her own. "You're okay, Daffy."

Bobby rolled his eyes at the nickname she'd labeled him with the morning before. It had taken him the full day before he'd gotten up the nerve to ask her what it was all about, only to find out it had been the first thing that had popped into her head when Rogue had told her his last name. Still… being named after an annoying cartoon duck wasn't exactly reassuring. Even if it was, most likely, appropriate.

Probably because it _was_ appropriate. And he knew it.

Nonetheless, he smiled and reached over to give her hand a quick squeeze. "Feeling's mutual, Lorna. And thanks."

Forcing himself to let go of her hand, he took the last bite from his taco and glanced over at the frying pan, debating whether or not he wanted another, and decided he did.

"Ready for another one?" he asked Lorna, cocking an eyebrow as he stood up to put his own together.

Eyeing the remaining food, she considered. "Half of one would work, I think," she finally decided. "You make good tacos. Can't say no to more."

"Like you can screw up tacos," he joked, trying to decide how to go about making half a taco, finally deciding just to make a whole one; if she didn't eat it all, so be it, at least there'd be less to clean up. "No, I take that back," he conceded as she opened her mouth to object. "My mom managed it at least once – dumped chili seasoning in instead of taco mix." He made a face and shuddered. Definitely one of Maddie's worst attempts at cooking.

"See? Told you it was possible. My flatmates did it," she pointed at him, with a triumphant smirk. "Although that's a new way to do it. Sounds nasty."

"Ooooh yeah," he agreed as he made her another taco and handed it to her. "I always hated when Lola visited at dinner-time; the results were scary. I think I learned to cook through self-defense.

"Who's Lola?' she asked, cocking her head in curiosity.

"Lola," he rolled his eyes, "is my mom's muse. She paints – my mom does I mean, not Lola, though sometimes it's hard to be sure of that when you listen to Maddie talk. Anyway," he added between bites of taco, "Lola always had a knack for showing up just before dinner, and then my mom would have this urge to go paint, so she'd throw something together really quick so she could get on with it. The results were pretty scary."

"So, how 'bout you?" he asked, looking at her curiously. "You mentioned your dad, I think. How 'bout your mom? What does she do?"

"No mom," she told him with a shake of her head, "just me and my dad. My real parents died when I was little, and George – who's really my uncle – adopted me. But my mom was a high school science teacher. And my dad was a chef. I must have his cooking genes in me somewhere, because I do okay in a kitchen. I don't love it, the way he did, but it _can_ be fun."

He listened, wincing slightly. Way to go, Bobby, he told himself, though at least she didn't seem to be upset by the question. Still, though...

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling awkwardly and reaching over to squeeze her shoulder. "It sounds like your uncle's pretty cool, though. Can't picture my aunt doing the same under the circumstances."

Lorna shrugged and offered a half-smile. "Thanks, but it's okay. Really. I don't remember them, other than through pictures and stories, so I can't even really miss them." She took a sip of her pop before continuing. "Do you come from a big family? Any brothers or sisters, all that stuff?"

Bobby shook his head, swallowing the bite of taco in his mouth. "Nah, my parents couldn't handle the thought of another one after me," he joked, trying to re-lighten the mood. "My cousins were always around when we were growing up, though – having my mom 'watch them'," he made quotes with his fingers, "was cheaper than putting them in day care."

He grinned as he got to his feet, picking up his now empty plate and carrying it over to the sink. "I think she may have ended up regretting that, though. Like I told you the other day, put me and Mary in one place, and chaos ensues," he grinned. "Add Joel, and… well, my aunt had some cause for complaint," he admitted. "We were horrible to him growing up – I remember when we got into my mom's paints and decided he'd be more interesting if he was pink. Unfortunately, he wasn't," he added, shaking his head sadly. It would've taken far more than pink paint to make Joel interesting. The only net results had been a fight between his aunt and his mother, and him and Mary being grounded for two weeks once his father found out.

Before Lorna could reply, Jean stepped into the kitchen with a smile. "Hey, what're you two hiding from in here for?"

Lorna looked at Jean, managing, just barely Bobby thought, to keep her expression neutral. "We just met Emma."

A shadow fell over the redhead's elegant features. "I knew I sensed a disturbance in the force," she grumbled, then took a deep breath. "Where's her majesty now?"

"In the living room," Bobby supplied. "With Rogue and Scott, last we saw, but I know Rogue was saying she had to get ready for a date."

Only a slight tick at the corner of her mouth gave an indication of what she was thinking. And without a word, she dashed from the kitchen.

"Well, I guess that says a lot, right there," Bobby noted, watching Jean's retreating back.

"Y'know," Lorna mused, "between you, me, Rogue and Jean, I think we could provide airtight alibis for each other."

Laughing, Bobby nodded. "You've got a good point there. Maybe we'll have to get together, form a secret alliance or something." He tossed her a wink, then glanced around the kitchen before grinning at her conspiratorially. "What do you say we leave the dishes for tomorrow and get out of here before the shit hits the fan out there?"

The faint sound of raised voices from the living room drew Lorna's attention. Eyebrows raised, she looked back and Bobby and got to her feet. "Once again, I love the way you think. Let's go."

Darting past him, Lorna grabbed his hand and unceremoniously pulled him out of the kitchen. They bolted down the hall and up the stairs, Bobby laughing as he got dragged the whole way up to the attic. She couldn't quite help but grin at him as he immediately plopped down on her bed, still laughing, and looking at her expectantly.

"So, what're we watching?"

If he were a puppy, his tail would've been wagging madly and his tongue lolling to the side. It was impossible for her to look at him without smiling when he was in one of these moods. Not a smirk, but an honest-to-god smile. Which was rare enough, coming from her.

Shaking her head and smiling to herself, Lorna headed over to her desk and hit the power button on her laptop. "You pick. I'll be there in a second, just want to check email."

Slipping into her chair, she launched her email and waited for the messages to download. There were several from her father – brief, often barely comprehensible messages about a project, bouncing an idea off her, and one simply to say hello. She shook her head, smiling fondly at each one. She missed George. He'd been the only constant in her life, the only thing unchanging for as long as she could remember.

Not that she minded, really. Lorna wouldn't change a thing about her upbringing. She'd gotten to live all over the world, seeing and experiencing things that most people would never have the opportunity to. They'd moved around like gypsies, never staying anywhere too long, never forming any real ties. The longest they ever stayed anywhere was Greece, and even that amassed to only 18 months or so over the span of several years. It was still the place she thought of most as "home".

The disadvantage of that lifestyle, though Lorna would never admit it aloud, was that she had grown up afraid to ever get too attached to anything or anyone. People left, moved, went away. If you became attached, you got hurt. She'd learned her lesson early on, and instead of letting herself miss what she couldn't have, instead of dwelling on it, she'd learned just to keep herself at a distance from people. Far, far easier just to build a lovely protective wall around herself to keep people out.

It had worked brilliantly. Even after four years at Oxford, living with (mostly) the same people, she'd formed no close friendships. She had acquaintances she'd gone out with, partied with, but not one of them really knew anything about her. Not the real her, anyway.

And, really, that was the way she liked it.

Laughter from across the room caused her to cast a glance over her shoulder. Bobby had made himself comfortable at the head of her bed, and was laughing hysterically at something on TV. She grinned and shook her head, then turned back to her computer.

Bobby… was an interesting case. She didn't feel the same need to keep up the walls around him. Over the few days she'd known him, she'd already forgotten herself on several occasions and let down her guard. He hadn't mocked and he hadn't run screaming, but of course, she wasn't even entirely sure that he'd noticed, either. This put him comfortably under the "safe" category in her mind. There had been very few people who had fallen into that over the years. In fact, she could count them on one hand, and still have fingers left over.

What surprised Lorna the most was that, instead of being annoyed by his company and making an effort to keep to herself as much as possible, she found she actually _liked_ the fact that there was someone in the house who sought out her company.

Deciding that there was nothing in her Inbox that required immediate attention, she shut her laptop and went to join Bobby for some mindless entertainment. She flopped back onto the bed next to him, leaning against the headboard, and settled in to watch the Monty Python. After a few minutes of comfortable silence filled only with laughter and guffaws, Lorna finally spoke.

"Think there's been any death or destruction down stairs?"

"No idea, really," Bobby replied with a shrug. "I'm not hearing anything crashing, though, and you'd think we probably would. Wonder what Emma's powers are, if she has any."

Lorna snorted. "You mean besides being a princess?"

Bobby laughed and nodded, finally pulling his attention from the television. "Yeah, besides that." Reaching out, a little bit awkwardly due to how they were sitting, he squeezed her shoulder. "You okay? Really?"

Without even thinking about it, she nodded. "Yup," she replied, unconsciously leaning against him lightly.

Trying to ignore the concerned look on his face, she fought not to stiffen as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and urged her closer. "C'mere, you need a snuggle," he informed her, and Lorna tried not to roll her eyes. She'd already slipped into the roll of pseudo little sister, apparently. Usually it took a few weeks for that to happen, rather than a couple of days. Not that she was complaining, because it felt awfully nice to be held. "And don't worry about Emma. She's not worth it."

She actually considered resisting his gentle urging, but quickly dismissed the idea as she leaned into him with a half-smile. Bobby really was a sweetheart. What he was doing spending time with her, she couldn't quite figure out, but she was glad of it. "If she smacks your nose with a rolled up newspaper, let me know, though, okay? I'll make sure she pays."

Bobby laughed and nodded. "I promise. Not too worried – I'm probably about as far under her radar as you can get. She just wanted to annoy Rogue, I think."

Lorna made a non-committal sound, doubting very much that anybody stayed under Emma's radar. She was the type who figured out how everyone could be most useful to her, and then used them mercilessly.

A yawn crept up on her, and she blinked lazily. "I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition," she quoted along with the actors on the screen.

Bobby grinned down at her. "You _never_ expect the Spanish Inquisition…" The words trailed into a yawn, and he shook his head, smiling sheepishly. "Damn, long day – I think I spent all of it in line registering for classes. How 'bout you?"

Yawning again, she shot him a half-hearted glare for keeping the cycle going. "Long and frustrating. I spent most of the day trying to track down my advisor, with no luck."

"Ouch, that sucks. 'Least all I had to do was register my major and sign up for stuff."

Nodding, she rested more heavily against him, which resulted in a smile from her human pillow. "He's gonna be a joy to work with if this is any indication." She glanced up at him, an eyebrow arched curiously. "What did you end up registering as your major?"

Bobby shrugged and offered a sheepish smile, which left Lorna with a hollow feeling. She suspected she knew what was coming. "Business Administration," he admitted, shifting his arm and tightening it around her as he yawned broadly. "And the department has classes waaay too early in the morning

"Bobby!" Lorna scolded, brow furrowed as she thwapped his chest. "You were supposed to stick with drama."

Rolling his eyes at her, he shook his head. "Nah. Time to get realistic, stop screwing around."

Lorna shook her head sadly. "It'll suck the life out of you, and you know it." And it just wasn't _him_. It was wrong for him on countless levels. She couldn't understand why he'd do that to himself.

"Yeah well," Bobby shrugged and pulled her closer. "At least it'll pay bills while it does, right?"

So very wrong. Lorna sighed and slipped her arm around him, hugging him. "There are more important things in the world, y'know. You need to actually _enjoy_ what you're doing, not just use it to pay the bills."

Hugging her back, he shrugged with a smile. "It'll be okay. Besides, I'm a crappy actor, anyway."

"I seriously doubt that. _I_'d watch you."

"Save your money," he laughed. "I'm pretty awful. I've been told." He gave her a tired smile around another yawn.

"Says who?" she demanded, frowning.

"Lots of people." He shrugged. "I don't have what it takes, Lorna, that's all. It's no big."

Lorna peered up at him and just looked at him for a long moment. She felt that she already knew him well enough to know when he was bullshitting. He wasn't nearly as okay with his decision as he was trying to make her thing. Finally she sighed and lowered her head, letting her eyes drift shut. Bobby mimicked her, his own eyes closing as he curled up closer to her.

"Promise me one thing?" she asked, her voice soft and sleepy voice.

Eyes partially opening, he looked down at her, a half smile curling his lips. "What's that?"

"Don't give it up completely, okay? You should never give up on something you really love doing."

With a smile, Bobby let his eyes drift shut once again. "Promise," he said with a nod and a yawn. "I'm a great audience..."

Lorna chuckled softly and tightened her arm around him. She was going to have to work at improving that self-image of his.

"Go to sleep if you want," he told her, hugging her back. "I'll let myself out when the show's over."

"Stay as long as you want. Won't bother me." Snuggling against him, she yawned and felt herself drifting towards sleep. He was awfully comfy… especially when he was rubbing her shoulder like that.

"Thanks," he murmured, giving her a gently hug. His eyes closed again, and his head tipped backwards, resting against the headboard.

"Anytime, Daffy," she replied quietly. He sighed softly in reply and Lorna simply lay for a few minutes, enjoying his company, the feel of his arm snugly around her, his chest rising and falling gently beneath her cheek. His breathing was gradually evening out, as was hers, and it wasn't long before they were both asleep.

* * *

_**Coming soon, Chapter 3**_

**_Feedback is always appreciated! Great big Thank You's to everyone who reviewed the last chapter:)_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

Entering his room, Bobby tossed his books down onto his bed, then plopped down next to them, pillowing his head with his hands and staring up at the ceiling.

Lorna was right. Business Administration was going to kill him before he ever even got out of college.

Rolling onto his side, he grabbed the giant tome labeled _Intermediate Accounting_ out of the pile and opened it on the bed beside him, propping his head up with his elbow. This was the right thing to do, and he knew it. It wasn't like he was ever going to get anywhere as an actor, anyway – the percentage of unemployed actors was staggering, and he just wasn't that talented.

Well…okay, his director in last year's production had said otherwise. But his dad was right. Unemployed actors were a dime a dozen. He needed to buckle down and face reality.

Reality involved far too many numbers, he decided a few moments later as he made his way through the first page of his assignment.

It was almost a relief when his cell phone rang ten minutes later and he pushed himself up, then scrambled off the bed to answer it. Hopefully it was Mary; they'd had plans to meet for lunch tomorrow, but she'd called earlier to say she wasn't sure she'd be able to make it. Hopefully she'd found out one way or the other; if they weren't meeting for lunch, he could finish his homework then. Sometimes procrastination was the only decent option.

The phone number on the caller id, however, was that of his old apartment, not his cousin, and he grinned as he flipped the phone open.

"Jeff, I put the CDs in the mail yesterday," he said in lieu of a greeting.

"Awww, is that all you have to say to me?" a familiar female voice said.

Bobby nearly dropped the phone. Opal. It was…Opal. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before pulling the phone back to his ear. He had no idea why she would be calling, but…well, it couldn't be a bad thing, could it?

"Sorry," he said sheepishly as he went and sat back down on the edge of the bed, still trying to process the fact that Opal was calling his cell. "Jeff's been calling daily, I accidentally packed a ton of his CDs when I left."

"Riiiight. Accidentally. Tell me another story, Bobby," she joked, and he rolled his eyes and grinned as he settled back against the wall.

"No, this time it really was," he replied. "Not my fault he had them on my desk when I pushed the whole works into a box."

"And of _course_ it wouldn't occur to you to actually _look_ at what you were packing," she countered with a long-suffering sigh. "Honestly, Bobby…I don't know how you're managing out there on your own."

"Pretty well, actually," he replied, ignoring the stack of books that seemed to glare at him accusingly. "Changed my major to business administrator, even. You caught me doing homework."

"Well, will wonders never cease?" she answered playfully. "Finally decided to give up the acting thing, huh? It's about time."

"Yeah, I know," he replied, sighing as he let his eyes drift shut and shifting to rake his fingers back through his hair. "What can I say? I guess I finally got my head together."

"And here I thought it'd never happen," she teased. "But hey, I called for a reason. Think you can find some time to come into town next month around the 20th?"

"Maybe," he hedged, mentally reviewing his bank account and school schedule. "Why, what's up?" So, maybe he'd sounded a little too hopeful, there. He didn't care. He was totally over Opal. Not that there should have ever been anything to get over, because she hadn't been interested in a relationship, or not one with him at any rate. He'd been a shoulder to cry on, and a way to pass the time until she got back together with Hiro. Anything more than that had just been in his head.

Or…maybe it hadn't?

Okay, so maybe he was a little hopeful, but that wasn't a crime.

"Well, I…oh god, Bobby, you're not going to believe this," she gushed, and he felt something shift inside the pit of his stomach. "I'm getting married! And I'd really, really like it if you could be there..." she continued talking rapidly, but he didn't hear any of it.

Married. Of course. She wouldn't call him for any other reason, he should've known that. Nonetheless, he felt as if he'd been hit with a brick.

Apparently not quite as over Opal as he'd thought.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to listen to the rest of what she was saying.

"…and it's been a total nightmare trying to get it all organized this fast, you have no idea how hard it is to find a caterer who'll do traditional Japanese _and_ vegetarian, but you _know_ Hiro just _insists_ we have both."

Yeah, well, Hiro had the money to afford that. He was running his family's US branch office. Unlike him, who wasn't altogether sure if he had enough money to pick up the tab tomorrow at lunch.

"But really, I'd be just thrilled if you could come – you're not saying anything, Bobby, aren't you happy for me?"

Oh yeah. Definitely happy. Thrilled. Instead, he nodded and forced a smile. "Yeah, of course I'm happy for you Opal. Hiro's a really lucky guy." Huh. He'd even managed to say that without his voice cracking. And she'd always said he couldn't act.

"Well, we never would've gotten together if you hadn't been so great about listening to me after we broke up last time, you know. I don't know if I ever said it, but I really, really appreciate everything."

Bobby just nodded, his eyes shutting. "No problem," he replied. "Look, I've gotta go – my cell phone battery's running out of charge. I'll give you a call sometime before then, okay? Give me a chance to see what I can work out."

"That's wonderful! Okay, I'll talk to you later – oh, and Jeff's standing here, he says his CDs had damn well better be in the mail – no, I'm _not_ going to relay that, Jeff. If you want to tell him that you can talk to him…"

Bobby hit the power button on his phone, hoping Opal'd think the battery had run out, and rolled his head back, his eyes closing.

Life sucked.

Sighing, he got to his feet and set his phone back down on the desk. And with one last glance at his accounting book, he slumped out the door of his room.

The sound of footsteps thudding down the stairs, followed by the front door banging shut had pulled Lorna's attention away from the text she was reading. Getting up off the bed, she crossed to the window and peered out. There was Bobby, shoulders slumped and looking decidedly unhappy.

She paused only long enough to slip on her sandals.

It didn't take Lorna long to catch up with Bobby, following him down the street to a small park. Taking the meandering path down the water, barely appreciating the beauty of her surroundings, she paused when she spotted him sitting on the rocks. She stood and watched him for a moment, as he stared out at the water, looking... well, rather sad, actually. Lorna felt her brows draw together in concern.

After a long moment, she resumed her trek towards him, making her way gingerly across the rocks. She paused again a short distance away, hesitant to disturb him all of a sudden. He'd probably think she was following him. Which she kind of was, but not in a creepy way. He was her friend, dammit.

"Hey," Lorna called out gently, offering a lopsided smile. "Can I sit, or should I just screw off?"

Her turned and looked back at her, answering with a half-smile of his own. "Nah, pull up a rock," he said, shifting over so she could share his if she wanted, and turned back to looking out over the water, watching the seagulls swoop around a bobbing buoy.

Moving towards him again, Lorna gently lowered herself to the spot he'd just vacated for her. She looked out at the water and took a deep breath. It was really pretty down there. She could see herself spending a lot of time down by the harbor… if she actually forced herself to spend time somewhere other than the house or the campus.

"Don't tell me you actually take study breaks," he quipped.

Cocking an eyebrow at him, she studied him carefully before answering. His humor was forced. Something was definitely going on with him all. "Saw you leave," she told him with a shrug. "So I decided to try to tack you down, see if you were okay."

Bobby smiled without turning to look at her, and Lorna nudged him gently with her shoulder. "So what's up? Why are you hiding down here?"

He considered his reply for a long moment, looking... serious. Contemplative. Maybe just chilling (she winced internally at the bad pun), she honestly couldn't quite tell. Which should have told her something right there.

"Just... thinking," he replied, looking out at the harbor. "Or not thinking." He chuckled, his mouth twisting up in a half grin. "Trying to figure out why I thought things would be any different here than back at NYU. Nice of you to ask, though," he added with a more genuine smile, turning back to look at her. "Thanks."

One eyebrow arched high at his reply. "Welcome," she murmured, eyeing him carefully. This was not a happy Bobby, regardless of the smile.

She stared out at the water for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. Playing cheerleader _really_ wasn't her thing. She let her mind wander a bit, drifting aimlessly. One thing she'd always wanted was to live by the water. She suspected that was one of the reasons Greece was one of her favorite places to live and work. Water, water everywhere. Down by the harbor would definitely be one of her favorite places to hang out for the next year.

Finally, she cast a sideways glance at Bobby. "So, how do you figure things aren't going to be any different? The concrete jungle vs…," she swept her hand out, gesturing to the bay, "all this." Lorna couldn't help but grin as she nudged his shoulder again. "Not to mention you get to live with a creepy, stalker-like, green-haired chick who won't leave you alone."

Letting out a burst of laughter, Bobby grinned over at her. "I think it's only considered stalking if I don't want you around." He shook his head and nudged her back, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "You're definitely one of the high points, Lorna."

Well, if she was one of the high points, then things were _definitely_ sucking for Bobby, she decided. She quickly ran through a list of things that could be causing him so much misery. His classes were right at the top. Why he'd switched his major she would never understand. When he talked about drama, acting, movies, theatre, she saw in him a passion that came awfully damn close to mirroring her own for archaeology. And he gave it up. To Lorna, that made absolutely no sense.

Forming a stone out of ice in his hand, he tossed it out on the water, watching it skip once before sinking beneath the waves. Grinning, he formed another rock-shaped ice cube in his hand and tossed it out after the first before continuing. "Besides, I already swore myself into servitude, remember? You've hardly even had a chance to put me to work yet. Or have you already found a replacement?"

Her eyebrows arched slightly, and she just looked at him, watching him form yet another a flat, round piece of ice in his hand and skip it across the water. Now _that_ was a neat trick. She laughed, deciding to let things lie. For now. "No, no replacement," she assured him with a grin. "You're barely out of the wrapper, still have that new slaveboy smell. I'm not giving you up so soon."

She looked out at where the ice stone had dropped seconds before. "Can you make me one of those?" Lorna asked, motioning with her chin in the general direction of the water. "One of those ice rock things, I mean."

Startled, he stared at her for a moment, then smiled and nodded. "Yeah, sure," he agreed, handing her the one in his hand and forming another for himself.

"Thanks." Lorna accepted the ice rock and turned it over in her fingers. Amazing, really. Perfectly smooth, and just melting the slightest bit from the warmth of her touch. Getting to her feet, she brushed off her jeans and peered out at the water.

"Welcome to my favorite not-thinking activity," he joked as he tossed his in the air and caught it. "Actually easier than rocks; they're lighter so they skip better."

Nodding, she tossed the ice stone from one hand to the other, trying to get a feel for it, for its weight. Lorna held it lightly, and hooked her finger around the end. With a flick of her wrist, it went flying, skipping three times before sinking. Lorna blew her bangs out of her eyes and grinned down at Bobby. "Keep 'em coming," she instructed, hand extended, fingers wiggling as she waited for another ice rock.

Shaking his head, Bobby made a point of sitting on his hands as he grinned back up at her. "Uh-uh," he joked, shaking his head. "First you answer a question, then you get something to throw. Tell me something I don't already know about the oh-so-mysterious Lorna Dane," he added with a wink, pulling out his hand and rolling a new ice rock between his fingers teasingly.

She bit back a quip, deciding that this wasn't the time. They'd joked around enough over the past few weeks. Offering him a slightly self-conscious half-smile, she leaned over and snatched the ice stone from his fingers. "I'm boring." According to her most recent ex-boyfriend, at any rate. Not that she _really_ cared, considering the source. "There's nothing even remotely mysterious about Lorna Dane, believe me." She tried very hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"Somehow, I doubt that," Bobby said quietly, his eyes searching her face.

She found she couldn't stand still under his scrutiny, and turned away, skipping her stone across the water. It jumped seven times, and she smiled to herself. Much better. "How 'bout you, Bobby? What really makes you tick?"

"I... I honestly don't know," he admitted after a few moments. "Luckily, I seem to keep ticking along anyway." Shrugging one shoulder, he smiled up at her. "Make you a deal, though – if I ever manage to figure it out, I promise to clue you in. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," Lorna agreed, a genuine smile on her face as she gazed down at him. Sitting back on the rock, Lorna took a deep breath. This was foreign territory for her, having a heart-to-heart with a friend. No, that wasn't entirely true. She'd been dumped on more than once, she just hadn't actually _cared_ about the person doing the dumping before. This probably required more delicacy than she was capable of, and she found herself regretting her inability to be… softer. She hadn't tried to tap into that side of herself in far too long.

"So… you gonna tell me what's really wrong?" she asked, stretching her legs out in front of her. She nudged him again with her shoulder.

Bobby sighed and leaned back on his hands, staring out at water. "Nothing, really. Just got a phone call, playing a game of 'what if', I guess."

She cocked her head. "A call from…?"

The look on his face spoke volumes, as did his completely humorless chuckle. "My old housemate. She's getting married, called to invite me to the wedding."

There was obviously a lot more to it than that. Not saying anything, Lorna just looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Eyes falling to the rocks, Bobby seemed to deflate. "I just... I don't know. She called, and I thought...," he trailed off with a shrug. "Doesn't matter what I thought, I guess. It never did."

And that pretty much told Lorna everything she needed to know. Her expression softened, and she leaned back on her hands so she could rest her shoulder against his. "So she was a little more than just a housemate."

"I thought she was," he replied with a shrug. "I was wrong. Nothing new there."

The look on his face just about broke her heart, a fact she found ironic considering over the years more than one person had accused of not having a heart at all. Lorna tried to catch his eyes, but he was staunchly not looking at her. Finally, voice quiet and sincere, she said, "I'm sorry." Leaning slightly more heavily against him, she hoped a simple touch like that would offer him at least some comfort.

With a sigh, Bobby leaned against her and nodded. "Yeah, me too." He shrugged and offered her a half-smile. "Should've known this was coming. I guess I did, kinda. The guy she's marrying is really something, you know? And I'm happy for her. It's just..." His voice trailed off and he stared out over the water again.

"It's just…?" Lorna urged gently, head cocked to the side.

Bobby shrugged again. "I don't know. I thought there was really something there, you know? Other than just the shoulder to lean on thing when they broke up." He gave a humorless snort of laughter. "I guess I should feel special. I was the first one she told when they got back together."

Wincing, Lorna looked at him sadly. "She sounds like a bitch, if you ask me. Which you didn't, I know, but I'm not exactly shy about sharing my opinion." She smirked and nudged his shoulder, then smiled at him gently. "And in case it helps at all, I think you're pretty special." Lorna pointed a warning finger at him. "And _not_ in a 'had to ride the short school bus' kind of way, either. You really are a great guy, Bobby, and it's her loss."

A soft chuckle had Lorna smiling as he shook his head. "I don't feel like such a great guy at the moment, but thanks." He nudged her back gently. "You're pretty special yourself, you know. Thanks for letting me vent all over you."

Lorna shrugged and smiled. "Anytime. You know where to find me if you need someone to talk to." She honestly couldn't ever making that offer before, to anyone. The even scarier things was, she meant it.

"Seems to me you found me," he pointed out, leaning against her and returning her smile. "But I appreciate it."

Lorna smirked. "Told you – stalker."

His laugh was more genuine this time, which caused Lorna to grin. "Told _you_ – you only get the title if I don't want you around."

"Give it time," she advised, crinkling her nose.

Bobby gave her a slightly confused look and shook his head. "I doubt it. Like I said, you're one of the positive things around here." Lorna looked up at him with a smile as he nudged her, grinning at her playfully. "Unless you're planning on running screaming after all this."

"Hardly," she scoffed. "You don't honestly think you're that scary, do you?"

Chucking, Bobby shook his head. "Maybe not scary. Pathetic, maybe…" Lorna thwapped him, and he laughed, rubbing his arm. "Thanks," he added, smiling at her self-consciously. "Honestly, I'm not usually this big an idiot. I just save it for special occasions."

Lorna smiled more gently at him and slid her hand over to squeeze his reassuringly. "You're not an idiot," Lorna told him with a chuckle, shaking her head. "It's a shitty situation. It would throw anyone off."

Bobby shrugged his shoulders and glanced at her sideways, then smiled and squeezed her hand back.

Climbing to her feet, Lorna reached out and motioned for Bobby to take her hand. "C'mon, let's go," she urged with a wicked grin. "You need to get yourself all prettied up. We're gonna go out and get you cheered up tonight."

The club they'd ended up choosing, despite Remy's protestations, wasn't really a club at all. Instead, they'd ended up at a combination restaurant/bar with a handkerchief-sized dance floor tossed in.

Which was fine with him, Bobby decided as he tossed back the last of his beer, grinning as he listened to Remy and Rogue bicker on the opposite side of the table. In truth, he was sort of relieved they'd invited themselves along. He didn't much feel like talking himself, and it was easy enough to just toss in a comment here and there and still feel as if he were contributing to the conversation.

"So, don't ya think you've had enough of that yet?" Rogue asked, smirking as she gestured toward the half-finished glass of bourbon that was sitting in front of her date. "You're gonna trip right over your feet – assuming ya even make it to the dance floor at this rate."

Remy leaned back in his seat, smiling at her lazily. "I'm sure if you don't want to risk it, p'tite, Lorna here'd be willin' to give it a try."

Bobby let out a snort of laughter as Rogue arched an eyebrow, an amused expression on her face.

"Well, don't let me stop y'all." She picked up her drink and took a sip, then turned to Lorna and grinned. "Best of luck to ya, Lorna. Hope for your sake he don't pass out on ya out there.

Lorna, who'd been quietly nursing her second or third beer of the evening and simply observing, arched an eyebrow. "Why am I getting dragged into this?"

Bobby grinned as he raised his glass to his lips. "Because you're here?"

Crinkling her nose in response, Lorna retorted, "So're you, and I don't see you being tormented."

Before Bobby could think of a retort, which made him wonder if he were perhaps a bit more drunk than he'd realized, Remy jumped in, his grin broadening as his eyes scanned the others at the table.

"No offense, homme, but Remy's got better taste than that. With two beautiful femmes at the table, he's got better options available." He added a slow wink, and Bobby laughed. Couldn't blame the guy. Rogue was beautiful, and Lorna…

Well, Lorna was something really special, he decided as he lifted his glass and drained the rest of his beer. Totally out of his league, but very, very special nonetheless.

The object of his scrutiny was arching an eyebrow at Rogue and didn't seem to notice Bobby's eyes on her, much to his relief. Lorna was probably the best friend he had at the house. And he'd just had a lovely reminder today of how being interested in a housemate could be a very, very bad idea.

"You know how to find the smooth ones, don't you?" Lorna asked, seemingly unphased by Remy's flirting.

Rogue simply grinned in response. "Oh, he's smooth alright. 'course, ya never know when he actually means what he's saying, and when he's just layin' it think by habit."

Remy grinned wolfishly at Rogue. "Remy'll make sure y'know when it matters, chere."

"They way you're downing those drinks, Sugar, I'm thinkin' nothing much is going to matter other than going home and passin' out somewhere."

Lorna let out a soft snort of laughter, smirking over at Bobby, and he grinned back.

"Guess that depends on just whose home he goes to, and where he passes out, but I'm not all that sure I want to know." Bobby slid down off the stool and tugged at Lorna's sleeve, then gestured toward the bar with his chin. "Want another drink? I'm ready for a refill."

Lorna glanced over at the other two, then looked back at him and nodded. "Yeah. I'll come with you," she said as she hopped down off her stool and smirked over at Remy. "C'mon, prove to us how good you really are. Get Rogue to dance with you."

Remy grinned slowly. "Oh, I'm thinking I'll get chere to do more than dance tonight."

"Tell ya what, Cajun. You show me you can actually dance, and we'll go from there. If ya can't even manage that, there ain't much point even talkin' about more."

Casting Rogue an injured look, Remy got to his feet and grinned. "Don't worry, chere. No matter what you're thinkin' Remy can pretty much always dance. Watch and see." And, without giving her an opportunity to do more than open her mouth to protest, he grabbed hold of Lorna's arm and tugged her out onto the dance floor, leaving Bobby staring after them.

Behind him, Rogue began laughing, and Bobby forced a smile as he sat back down on his stool, then waved over a waitress and ordered another beer.

"Looks like we're on our own, Bobby," Rogue chuckled as she swiveled her stool so she could lean back against the table and watch the other pair on the dance floor.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed, forcing a smile. Despite whatever protestations Lorna'd been about to make, she seemed happy enough now, laughing at something Remy was saying as they danced. It didn't seem to bother Rogue at all, which was good. And really, he wasn't altogether sure why it bothered him.

Or maybe he was. But that didn't mean he had to admit it.

"So, feelin' better at all?" Rogue asked hesitantly.

Bobby blinked and turned to look at her, wondering what, if anything, Lorna'd told her. Hopefully not much. This really wasn't something he wanted to talk about generally, which was one of the reasons he'd come to San Francisco in the first place.

"Your headache," Rogue pointed out, rolling her eyes. "Lorna said you'd been doin' too much studyin', needed to get out for a bit. What, your mind's so stuck out there on the dance floor that ya forgot all about it?"

"Oh! No, it's better," he replied, forcing a smile as he raked his hand through his hair and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just not real with it tonight, I guess."

"Maybe we'd better cut you off, too. Ah think I could get you or Remy home, but prob'ly not both. An' no offense," she added, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "but Ah'm takin' him first."

"Awww, I'm hurt. You'd just leave me here passed out, huh?" Bobby joked, forcing his eyes back to Rogue, as they seemed to have drifted back to the pair on the dance floor.

"Ah kinda doubt Lorna'd be leaving you on the floor," Rogue countered, rolling her eyes, then looking at him consideringly. "Ya like her, don't ya?"

"Huh?" Bobby replied incoherently, feeling a flood of heat up the back of his neck and hoping it wasn't working its way around to his face. Honestly, he hadn't thought about it. Much. He liked Lorna, definitely; she was fun, good company, easy to talk to...

Beautiful, sarcastic, funny… Internally facepalming, he forced himself to shrug his shoulders casually and smile. "Yeah, I like Lorna, she's fun," he replied as if he were talking about liking Hank, or Rogue herself. And mentally facepalming. No. He was not doing this. Not again. The crap with Opal had been humiliating enough. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Even if the idea of dating Lorna was – no. Not going there, either. Waaaay out of his league. She belonged with someone like…well, like Remy, who was pressed tight against her on the dance floor at the moment, his hands…

"C'mon, Ah think he's proved his point," Rogue said, cutting into his thoughts as she got to her feet and straightened out the nearly sheer, long sleeved green top she was wearing over a tank top. "Time to cut in on a certain Cajun, and Ah'm thinkin' Lorna could use a new partner."

Biting back a protest, Bobby let Rogue pull him over to the other couple, where she tapped Remy on the back, then grabbed hold of his arm and pull. "Ok, you're still standin', and Ah don't see Lorna holding you up. Time to trade off partners," she said, her expression soft despite her teasing tone.

Smirking as he dropped his arms from around Lorna, Remy glanced down at Rogue's hand on his arm. "Just can't keep your hands off me, eh, chere?"

Rogue rolled her eyes and smirked back at him. "Better hope I never actually get my hands on ya, Cajun. Could be a bit more than y'bargained for."

"Remy t'ink it'd be worth the risk," he replied, a slow smile forming in place of the smirk before he turned to Lorna and bowed. "It was a pleasure, chere. We'll have t' do it again sometime."

Somehow, that wasn't reassuring, Bobby mused, though given the way Remy'd immediately plastered himself to Rogue he rather doubt it would be happening any time soon. Still staring after them and wondering what to do next, he startled as Lorna reached out her hand to him.

"C'mon, you," she said.

Bobby took her outstretched hand and returned her smile as a feeling he could only describe as warm and fuzzy flooded over him. "Where am I going?"

Instead of responding, Lorna tugged him toward her, wrapping one arm around his back and placed her other hand on his shoulder. "Right here. You're gonna dance with me."

The odd sinking feeling in his stomach disappeared as he wrapped his arms around her waist and cocked his head. "How do you know I can even dance?" he asked curiously and began moving with her to the music. "I mean, you could be in for some serious foot-stepping on."

Lorna shrugged, gifting him with a crooked smile. An absolutely adorable crooked smile, he decided somewhat fuzzily. She could just keep smiling at him for the rest of the night, so far as he was concerned. And dancing. Dancing was good, too…

"Just a feeling," she replied, moving with him for a moment before grinning. "And I was right. As usual."

Bobby laughed and rolled his eyes. "Maybe I'm just good at following your lead?" he retorted, stroking his hands up and down her back. Oh yeah. He was definitely in no hurry to stop dancing, he determined as she moved a bit closer, pressing against him lightly and stroking his back in turn, her fingers leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Lorna shook her head. "You're just a naturally good mover."

"Well, that's one I've never heard before," he contested with a snort of laughter as he pressed closer against her, acutely aware of just how her body fit against his. "I think you're confusing me with your last partner, though. Seems he's the one who has all the moves." In more ways than one, obviously. Not only could Remy dance, but he had a self-confidence with women that Bobby would give a lot to possess. And knew for a fact that he never would.

At least Lorna didn't try to dispute that, just rolled her eyes and nodded. "He's good, yeah," she agreed, but then grinned and slid her hand along his shoulder, her hand moving to stroke his neck in a way that drove any thoughts of Remy and his own inferiorities from his mind. "This is more fun, though."

Bobby couldn't argue that. And didn't even try. Instead, he let his eyes drift shut, not quite managing to bite back a soft moan as her fingers moved back a bit further on his neck, brushing at the short hairs on the back of his neck.

"You having an okay time?" she asked.

Reopening his eyes, Bobby smiled and shifted closer against her, almost but not quite forgetting to move with the music. "Better now," he replied honestly.

Lorna smiled as she pressed closer still and continued toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Good. You really are a good dancer, y'know.

"Not really," he protested. "Maybe I've just got a good partner."

"Whatever. Stop selling yourself short," Lorna replied with a grin.

Bobby shrugged. Selling himself short was pretty much what he was best at. "Hey, everybody's gotta have a hobby," he joked, and was totally unprepared for the thwap Lorna delivered to his back.

Or the scowl on her face, for that matter. "Get a new one."

Confused, Bobby stopped dead for a moment. "Sorry..."

Lorna's expression softened, and she shook her head, her hand soothing the spot on his back she'd hit as she urged him to begin moving again. "No, I'm sorry. I just wish you'd stop knocking yourself. You're a great guy. You need to realize that."

Bobby rolled his eyes and forced a self-conscious grin. "Why? Nobody else does."

Lorna shook her head and looked at him steadily, her eyes only slightly unfocused. "Lots of people do. _I_ do."

She was drunk, he reminded himself as he met her eyes for a moment before dropping his. Or at least, she'd been drinking, and probably didn't mean it. Nonetheless, he suddenly really wished she did.

"Yeah well, time'll cure that, I'm sure," he said finally, a self-deprecating grin on his face as he told himself, for the umpteenth time that night, that Lorna was far, far out of his league. Far more so, if he wanted to be honest with himself, than Opal had ever been. Something special. And a dance was just a dance, and the music was changing.

But he'd remind himself tomorrow morning, he vowed. Before he could make the mistake of thinking things were more than they were, again. Right now, he was perfectly content to relax and simply enjoy her company.

"Want to go get a drink?" he asked as the music changed, and he dropped his arms from around her back in favor of slipping one around her shoulders and leading her toward the bar. Once there, Lorna promptly took control, ordering them a dozen tequila shots and setting up the lemon wedges and salt shaker provided by the bartender.

Well, maybe he'd remind himself tomorrow, he admitted as they did the first shot and he watched her make faces as she sucked at the lemon. There was always the possibility that he wouldn't remember, himself. Hopefully Rogue was right and Lorna wouldn't leave him passed out on the floor of the club. He had a feeling he was going to have a rough time getting home.

Up until that point, though, he was planning to enjoy every minute.

After shots and more dancing, followed by more drinking, Bobby and Lorna had finally decided to call it a night. With only a few minor setbacks, they got home, relatively unscathed. Arms wrapped around each other for support, though who was keeping who up was very much debatable, Lorna and Bobby stumbled their way up the stairs towards the second floor hallway.

"Keep going."

"Don't wanta... I'm tired, Lorna." And with that pronouncement, he tried to sit down on the next stair.

Lorna put all of her weight behind her as she tried to pull him back up. "C'mon, cut it out. I'm too tired for this," she protested, voice bordering on a whine, and slurring only slightly. "We're almost there."

Still pouting, Bobby peered up the stairs. "Nuh-uh. There's lots of them left..." Lorna looked at him drunkenly-pleadingly, and he grudgingly straightened up and continued up stairs. "Things... do for you..." he mumbled, shaking his head.

Lorna tightened her arm around him and smirked. "Yup. All for me." Finally, after what seemed like forever, they reached the hallway. "See? We're here!"

From halfway down the hall, a door swung open violently, and a very pissed off Emma poked her head out of her room. She gave the drunken duo a withering look, then disappeared behind her door with a huff. Lorna smothered a laugh. "Ooops," she said in a stage whisper.

Bobby snorted out a laugh and covered his face with his hand, shaking his head. "Someone's maaad." And he stuck his tongue out at Emma's door.

Lorna joined in, and made a face at door. "Biiiiitch," she hissed, causing Bobby to burst out laughing.

She turned and urged Bobby towards his room as he tried to smother his laughter with his hand. He tried to stop a door early, but she urged him on, opening his door and leading him inside. With a silly smile, Bobby peered down at her as she bumped the door shut with her hip. "You didn't leave me at the bar."

Bed. Had to get him on the bed before they both collapsed. She walked him across the room towards the double bed in the middle of the room.

Wait, what?

"Of course I didn't leave you at the bar," she told him, looking up in confusion. "Why would I?" She pushed him down gently, and he perched on the edge of the bed. Swaying just slightly, Lorna turned and plopped down gracelessly next to him.

"Because... Roguey said she was gonna leave me there if I got drunk, but you probably wouldn't, and she was right?" he offered, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and grinning. Seconds later he was flopping onto his back, legs hanging off. "Something like that..."

Lorna considered that and shrugged, collapsing back lying next to him. "Nope, wouldn't leave you." She smirked. "God only knows what kind of trouble you'd've gotten yourself into."

With a chuckle, Bobby closed his eyes. "Yeah, obviously I need a keeper." After a moment, he turned onto his side and big brown eyes blinked open. "Thanks Lorna. For everything." Awkwardly, he reached over and rubbed her shoulder.

Rolling over to face him, Lorna shrugged and offered him a crooked smile. "I didn't do anything other than get drunk with you. And dance with you." And oh, the dancing had been nice. Far too nice, to be honest. She'd fit so perfectly against him, him against her, and she hadn't wanted to move away from him when they finally staggered from the dance floor.

"Yeah, you did. And I ap..apresh – it was really nice of you," he finished with a smile and a nod.

Her returning smile was self-conscious. People thanking her for being nice was a novel concept, and not one she was entirely comfortable with, she didn't think. "Anytime." Lorna yawned hugely. "God, long day."

"Really long," Bobby agreed with a sigh. "I don't think I finished my assignment, either. Re-closing his eyes, he gave a half grin. "Maybe I can mail it to Opal's fiancé."

Through drunken eyes, Lorna watched him for a long moment. He still seemed so sad, and it made _her_ sad. She didn't do sad. Bitchy, sarcastic, cold, angry – she did all those. Sad, not so much. Finally she sighed and took a deep breath. "You need to sleep."

Bobby sighed in return and nodded, eyes drifting closed again. "Yeah, probably. Sorry."

"For what?" she wondered with a frown.

Yawning, he drew his legs up onto the bed. "Dunno. Being whiny?" he offered with another yawn.

Lorna rolled her eyes. "You're not." Sitting up after just a bit of a struggle with her brain, she forced herself to her feet and turned, just slightly unsteadily, towards Bobby. He couldn't sleep like that. She had to fix it. Leaning forward, she took off his shoes, despite his protestations and false accusations of tickling.

"There. Better?" she asked, her task finally completed.

Bobby smiled and nodded, then his eyes popped open and an annoyed look crossed his features. "Now the room's spinning..."

Uh-oh. Peering down at him, Lorna examined him with concern. "You gonna be sick?"

"I don't think so," he told her with a sleepy grin. "Things just need to stop spiiiiiinning..."

Brow furrowed, Lorna circled around the bed until she was standing beside him. She searched out his eyes, trying to catch his gaze. "Hey. Stay awake 'til I get back, okay? I'll be right back."

His only response was to curl up and mumble incoherently. "Mmmm? Mmhmm..."

"Stay awake," she ordered, shaking him gently. With a last, concerned look at him, she slipped out of the room. She was a lady on a mission.

A few minutes later she returned, changed into her pajamas, and carrying a glass of water and some aspirin. And found that he'd somehow managed to change into a t-shirt and a pair of baggy sleep shorts. Well, that was a good sign, if he was able to do that. But he was now flopped out on the bed again, and she had to make sure he was conscious. For now, at least. He could sleep in a few minutes.

"Back," she announced. "Sit up, 'k?"

Bobby rolled over and half opened his eyes. When he spotted her, he blinked and smiled. "Awww, you're sweet," he told her as he struggled to sit up.

"Hardly," Lorna replied with rolling eyes, lips quirking upwards as she reached out and stroked his hair gently. He took the pills and swallowed them before chasing them down with the water. "Hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna crash with you. Don't wanna come down here in the morning to find you choked to death in your sleep. This way if you get sick, I'll wake up."

Apparently the way to Bobby's heart was through his hair, and he leaned his head into her hand, eyes drifting shut. "Think... gonna turn down... offer like that?" he asked with a smile.

Snorting softly, Lorna pulled back the covers and climbed into bed next to Bobby, nudging him over. As she pulled the blankets up, lying down and urging him to do the same, she muttered softly, "You wouldn't be a guy if you did."

Not that she thought he was a typical male. No, not Bobby. He was one of the good guys. He wasn't anything like the boys she'd gone through over the years, the one-night-stands, the casual flings, the emotionless pseudo-relationships. He was sweet, warm, caring, fun, adorable… exactly the kind of guy she never stood a chance with.

She barely noticed that Bobby's eyes popped open and he turned to look at her. "I didn't mean... I mean, I'm sorry..."

Forcing down the morose musings, Lorna waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry. I'm drunk."

The concerned look on his face made her blank expression waver slightly. "Me too," he reminded her needlessly. "But 'm still sorry. You wanta go, I'll be 'k..."

"Don't have anything to apologize for," she assured him through a yawn. "And I'm not going anywhere. Don't want you dead."

Yawning in return, he recluses his eyes and grinned. "That makes one..."

As he wrapped an arm around her, Lorna thwapped his chest lightly and rolled over and snuggled up against his chest. He was definitely snuggly, which was a good thing.

"Wake me up if you need anything, 'k?"

She felt him rather than saw him nod. "'K." He paused for a moment before asking, "Does a hug count?"

Smiling, Lorna wrapped her arm around him and squeezed him. "Better?"

"Better," he confirmed, his arms tightening around her in return. She was sure she could hear a smile in his voice. ""Night, Lorna."

"Night," she replied softly. She forced her eyes to stay open until Bobby's breathing had evened out and she knew he was asleep. Only then did she allow herself to follow him, drifting off into a drunken dreamland.

* * *

**_Coming soon, Chapter 4_**

**_Feedback is always loved and appreciated!_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Polar Opposites**_

**_Chapter 4_**

Bobby hiked his backpack higher on his shoulders as he trudged toward the Student Union, where coffee hopefully awaited him. He'd finally finished his homework at about 3 a.m., partially because he had absolutely no aptitude for accounting whatsoever. And partially, he knew, because he kept zoning out, thinking back a few days to what he'd decided to term "the morning after".

Not thinking about that now, though, he told himself firmly as he pushed open the door and slipped inside, dodging the door that nearly thwapped him in the back. He'd done enough thinking about Lorna Dane over the past couple days. This morning, he was going to get coffee, and buckle down and…

Who was he fooling, anyway? He wondered as he headed straight for the coffee kiosk and ordered. He'd done virtually nothing the last few days _except_ think about Lorna. How she'd felt, snuggled against him, how her hair had been tinged with the mingled herbal scent of her shampoo and cigarette smoke from the club…

How big an idiot he'd made of himself. That featured prominently, he reminded himself as he accepted his coffee with an absent-minded, sleepy smile and headed over to a table. He was just surprised she was still speaking to him at all, after all that.

Sighing again, he set his backpack down on the ground and sat down, absently picking up an abandoned newspaper from the table and opening it randomly, trying to focus on something _other_ than his green-haired housemate, but his mind drifted back once more to the morning after their trip to the club, and he slumped back in his chair.

He'd been positive he was dreaming, when he began to wake up. It had seemed totally reasonable, considering there was a warm, soft body pressed up against his, something that had been totally absent from his waking life for longer than he really cared to admit, even to himself. And considering it was a dream, he really hadn't figured there was anything wrong with shifting closer and nuzzling his face into her hair, especially considering that the girl in the dream let out a contented sigh and snuggled up against him. He could almost feel her breath warming his chest, and it sent a warm, contented feeling spreading through his body as he pressed slightly closer against her.

It wasn't until he'd moved on to stroking his hands up and down her back through the soft cotton of her shirt that his sleep and alcohol fuzzed brain realized that this might not be a dream after all, and he'd forced his eyes open to look.

And saw a familiar cloud of green hair pillowed against his chest.

The events of the previous night had come back in a rush, and he'd re-closed his eyes. Wonderful. She'd spent the night with him. To keep him from choking, of all things. And here he'd just been…

At least she hadn't woken up. And when he had, finally, gotten up the nerve to shake her shoulder gently and wake her, she hadn't seemed upset. Which was something. She'd even invited him to come upstairs later, once his headache had subsided, and he'd taken her up on it. They'd watched TV that evening for a few hours, talking about nothing in particular except school and whose turn it was to clean the kitchen and making disparaging comments at Emma's expense.

Except…he couldn't seem to get it out of his mind, since. Not the way she'd smelled, not the way she'd felt. Not the sleepy way she'd looked up at him through her hair and smiled. Not the way she'd…

He blinked and shook his head, then looked down at his coffee, noting that it had grown cool while had sat by in a Lorna-induced daze. Which had been happening an awful lot this last week. He sighed and picked it up, then took a tentative sip and set it back down on the table with a grimace. Not cool, cold. He really needed to stop this – he couldn't seem to focus on much of anything, and dwelling on it was pointless. Lorna was beautiful, intelligent, funny; in other words, totally and completely out of his league.

He picked up the newspaper and resumed combing through the help wanted ads: bartender, waiter, someone to do data entry at the Admissions office. Nothing really appealed, though he was going to have to find something soon. Preferably something that didn't involve flipping burgers at Burger King. Been there, done that, and he was still fairly convinced he could smell the grease on some of his clothing, despite the fact it had been nearly a year.

Another ad off to the side caught his eye, and he folded the paper in half and read it curiously. Auditions. Not for the school musical or anything, either – for some off-campus Shakespeare festival sponsored by the Tourism Department in cooperation with Parks and Rec. He stared at it for a few moments, then closed the paper. Who was he fooling, anyway? He'd changed his major and told himself he was putting all that bullshit behind him. It wasn't like he had any real talent…

Or, so Opal had said, anyway. On the other hand…it couldn't really hurt to go over for the open auditions. Maybe it would take his mind off, well, everything.

He reopened the paper and re-read the ad, his eyes widening as he glanced up at the clock on the wall. Well, having to get to Golden Gate Park on the bus in less than an hour would definitely take his mind off a whole lot of things.

What the hell…he grabbed his backpack off the floor as he got to his feet, then took off at a run, pondering bus schedules and connections. Missing an accounting class wouldn't matter. He was going to flunk the course anyway.

XXX

Food. Lorna needed food, and she needed it _now_.

She'd skipped breakfast in favor of grabbing a coffee in the Student Union, as per usual, and had then spent the first half of the morning in class. From there she'd headed directly to the library, wanting to double check a question that had been raised by one of the other students. Absorbed in her research, she'd lost track of time and had had to rush off to what had turned out to be an incredibly productive meeting with her academic advisor. An incredibly productive, long meeting, and the bastard hadn't even had the courtesy of having any food in his office. So she'd tried to smother the growling in her stomach with cup after cup of fairly atrocious department-provided coffee. By the time she'd gotten home, she was practically vibrating from all the caffeine in her system, and a noticeable lack of food was making her feel decidedly queasy.

Rummaging through the fridge, she scowled in annoyance, wondering who she'd have to yell at for not having done the grocery shopping yet. Quite possibly herself, but she wasn't going to consider that, at the moment. Pulling out a package of deli-style turkey breast slices, she peeled back the wrapper and sniffed at it. It smelled okay, so hopefully it wouldn't kill her. Though at that moment, she wasn't entirely sure she cared. Slightly shriveled lettuce, a mushy half a tomato, and a container of mustard joined the meat on the counter.

If there wasn't any bread, somebody would die.

Fortunately, it seemed that fresh bread was something that was always in stock. Lorna breathed a sigh of relief as she reached over to the top of the toaster oven and snatched up the French loaf with one hand, and the bread knife with the other. Cutting off the end piece, she stuck it in her mouth and gnawed on it inelegantly as she sliced two thick slabs of the bread. She slapped together her massive sandwich as she finished eating the crusty heel of the bread, and cut the monstrosity in half. Nearly salivating, she picked up one half and took a massive bite, eyes closing in ecstasy as she chewed.

God_damn_ that was good.

Well, actually, it wasn't particularly good, but cardboard between those chunks of bread probably would have tasted delicious to her right about then.

Sandwich in one hand, Lorna turned to the fridge and pulled out a can of Diet Coke, then put it back with a crinkle of her nose. Nope, no more caffeine. That'd be bad. Instead she grabbed a bottle of water and awkwardly tried to twist off the cap without putting down either the bottle of the sandwich. The cap suddenly decided to twist itself off, or so it seemed, and settled on the counter. Lorna arched an eyebrow and glanced over her shoulder to spot exactly who she'd expected to see – their resident telekinetic telepath.

"Thanks," Lorna managed after swallowing.

"You're welcome," Jean replied with amusement as she entered the kitchen and perched on one of the stools at the island. "A little hungry?"

Nodding, Lorna took a sip of her water. "Yeah, didn't have a chance to eat today, and I'm pretty sure my blood is on the verge of transforming into pure coffee. I should probably go downstairs and let Hank take some samples. It's the kind of thing I'm sure he'd love to document."

The redhead laughed. "I'm not entirely sure that kind of transformation is actually possible, but if it is, then you're right, Hank would be all over it." Jean's expression changed, her teeth tugging at her lower lip slightly. "I was actually hoping to run into you."

Lorna arched an eyebrow at that. "Uh-oh," she replied, noting the look on the other girl's face. "What's up?"

Jean sighed, obviously uncomfortable. She picked up a napkin from the basket on the counter and started folding it and refolding it. "Are you seeing anybody right now?" she finally asked, hesitantly. "Either seriously or casually?"

Taking another large bite of her sandwich to stall, Lorna regarded Jean carefully. The obvious, immediate – and honest – answer was no. She hadn't been out on so much as a single date since starting at Berkeley, which was unusual in and of itself. But as soon Jean had asked the question, Lorna's mind had leapt to thoughts of Bobby.

Which was ridiculous. She and Bobby were friends, she knew that. They were _only_ friends. Despite how much fun she had with him when they went out, despite how easy it was to just hang out with him and do nothing, and despite how attractive she found him, they were just friends. Bobby had had plenty of opportunities to make a move – not the least of which was the night they'd gone out with Rogue and Remy, and she'd spent the night with him. But he'd made it pretty obvious he saw her as all nice guys like Bobby did: a surrogate sister, a buddy, just one of the guys.

Which was fine, she assured herself. Considering how spectacularly all of her relationships (such as they'd been) seemed to crash and burn, it was much better that she and Bobby just stay really good friends. She liked him far too much to risk screwing things up for a couple of weeks of sex. Undoubtedly great sex, but just sex, nonetheless.

"No," Lorna finally replied, watching Jean cautiously. "Why?"

A flash of what could have been surprise crossed Jean's elegant features, but it was gone in an instant. "Well, in that case, I've got a proposition for you."

Lorna snorted out a soft laugh. "I'm flattered, but you're not exactly my type."

Jean laughed and rolled her eyes. "Not _that_ kind of proposition," she chastised through her laughter. "Scott's got a brother, Alex. You remember last week, you were washing your car when Scott dropped me off?" At Lorna's nod, she continued. "Well, Alex was in the backseat that day, and was… intrigued by you, to say the least. He grilled Scott the entire ride home, and apparently hasn't stopped harassing him about getting a date with you."

Staring at Jean, sandwich almost forgotten, Lorna wondered what kind of mind-altering chemicals the redhead might've been exposed to at the hospital. Radiation. She must have been spending too much time in the imaging lab, without protection, and it was affecting her brain. "Riiiight," she drawled finally. "That happens to me almost daily. One glimpse is all it takes." She rolled her eyes and took another bite of her sandwich.

Sighing, Jean shook her head. "I'm not kidding," she assured Lorna. "Alex really wants to meet you, so Scott and I were wondering if you'd be willing to go out for dinner with us and Alex sometime. It would get him off our case, and if you can't stand him, there's the safety net of us being there as a buffer."

Lorna blinked at Jean. "You want me to go on a blind date? A double-date, at that?" She barked out a laugh. "What, are we going out for ice cream sodas?"

"I know, it's awful and hokey," Jean apologized. "But Alex is a nice guy. Really cute, smart. He's just a little bit shy about making the first move. I think you'd like him, otherwise I wouldn't suggest it."

Lorna took another bite of her sandwich, and considered the proposal. She'd never been on a blind date. Had never needed to. Back in England, she'd had absolutely no trouble meeting guys, whether for a single night of no strings-attached fun, or for something slightly more long-term. She just hadn't gone out with the intention of picking up since being in California. And she really wasn't entirely sure why. Or, at least, not that she was willing to admit to herself.

"I'll think about it," Lorna finally relented.

Jean nodded and smiled. "Fair enough. Just let me know when you've decided, okay?"

Nodding, Lorna took a bite of her sandwich, and Jean slid off the stool. She crossed over to the fridge and took out the can of Diet Coke Lorna had rejected earlier, and plucked a slice of turkey from the package.

"I'll let you know," Lorna promised.

Smiling, Jean nodded. "I promise not to bug you about it." The redhead snatched up another slice of meat, then turned and headed for the door, a grin on her face. "I'll just keep badgering your with subtle hints until you give in."

With a laugh, Lorna rolled her eyes and watched as Jean slipped out of the kitchen. Shaking her head, Lorna turned and started absently cleaning up the mess she'd made during her desperate search for sustenance. She'd take the other half of her sandwich upstairs and get some work done.

A blind date. God, what a joke. On the one hand she wondered why she'd even consider such a thing (besides the fact that it was Scott's brother, so she had to wonder how bad this Alex could possibly be), while on the other she wondered why she _wouldn't _consider it. It's not like she had any real reason not to, she acknowledged, even as a mental image of one Bobby Drake flitted unbidden through her mind.

XXX

Bobby was grinning as he took the steps down off the bus two at a time, pausing only to sling his backpack over his shoulder before fishing his cell phone from his pocket. He flipped it open, musing over the events of the last few hours as he tried to pull up Mary's phone number from the list.

A callback. He had a callback. Not, admittedly, for the lead role or anything, but for a totally respectable one. He didn't even care that the salary was a percentage of the take, or that he'd probably end up performing in the rain in the middle of an open amphitheater in the park.

If, of course, he got the part, he reminded himself. A call back wasn't a guarantee, no matter how encouraging the guy doing the auditions had been. There was that other guy, the one with the blue fur and the tail, who'd done a really good audition, though the director hadn't seemed overjoyed about his German accent. Still, a callback was a whole lot better than he'd expected, and Shakespeare in the Park would look awfully good on his resume…

Of which, he reminded himself as Mary's phone began ringing, he didn't have one. He'd changed his major. But maybe Lorna was right, and he shouldn't give up on acting completely…

"You've reached a dimension not entirely in tune with the one with which you're familiar," a familiar voice said in a low tone, one obviously cultivated to be ominous. "None of its inhabitants can answer your call, but…they'll be in touch if you leave a message. For faster results, Ouija boards are available at Toys R Us for the low retail price of $12.95."

Bobby laughed and shook his head, then waited for the beep. "C'mon, Mary, I know you're there, and I know you know who it is. Pick up, okay?"

The mechanical sound of the recording ceased in favor of a soft chuckle as the phone was picked up. "Oh, you're no fun. What do you think of the new message?" she asked with amusement.

"Very good one," he admitted with a nod. People said _he_ was odd – he had absolutely nothing on his cousin. "So, I need to get a Ouija board to contact you now? That's not fair – just last month you tried to make me go out and buy a crystal ball. You really need to decide on a service and stick with it," he chastised, making a tsking sound with his tongue.

"What can I say?" she disputed, sounding amused but altogether unrepentant. "The reception was lousy, and I actually had to _look_ at the people I was talking to. And Denise kept complaining about having to answer it without her makeup on…crystal balls are totally overrated. Besides, I got a free, guaranteed authentic sneak-o-scope with purchase. How can you beat that?"

Bobby shook his head and grinned, only belatedly remembering that he should probably start walking in the direction of the house. "Does it actually work?" he asked curiously. "I could use one of those – I think Hank got into my stash of Twinkies last week while I was in class."

He could almost hear Mary rolling her eyes through the phone as she responded. "You don't need a sneak-o-scope for that. Hank gets into everyone's Twinkies. Now, are you going to tell me how you have a callback for Puck? Because I know you're dying to…"

Bobby let out a snort of amusement as he turned the corner. His cousin's limited precognition was a blast – but it made surprising her nearly impossible. "Y'know, just once you could actually let me _tell_ you my news before you tell me you already know it," he complained good naturedly. "I know you do it for Denise, she told me."

"Well, that's because I'm _dating_ Denise. I'm not dating you," she observed totally unnecessarily. "Besides, just think how many minutes I save you every month on your phone bill. You should thank me."

"Uh huh. Just like Great-aunt Florence thanked you for announcing at your birthday party that she'd bought you the ugliest sweater you'd ever seen and it really wasn't worth the trouble of opening," he pointed out. "Some things are just supposed to be surprises."

"Not fair!" she protested, but he could hear her laughing. "I was all of what, nine? And it _was_ the ugliest sweater ever, until your mom dyed it purple. Then it wasn't so bad," she conceded. "Just itchy. But you're getting off the subject, Bobby. What's the deal with the audition? I thought you'd gone for respectable and changed to accounting or something dismal."

"I did," he admitted sheepishly, shifting the phone to his other ear so he could hoist his backpack back into place over his shoulder. "I dunno – just saw the ad this morning and figured why not, I guess. Probably shouldn't have, I guess…" he let his voice taper off, reminded of his promise to himself that he was going to settle down and focus.

"Oh, don't be a bigger idiot than usual," Mary told him, then sighed. "Look. You enjoy it, you're good at it, what's the big deal? I mean, can you picture _me_ majoring in accounting? Your dad'd have a heart attack. I'm not even _sure_ what my mom would do."

"I'm not good at it," he protested half-heartedly. Because yeah, he did love it…but that didn't mean he had the talent to make a future out of it. "And that's you. You've known what you were going to do since you were what, twelve? They've had ten years to get used to the idea that one of these days they're going to be seeing you on the Discovery channel on one of those documentaries about haunted houses."

"Well, not my fault you didn't want to be a ghost buster with me," she complained. "I tried to talk you into it then, you wouldn't go for it. Anyway, you're going off the subject. When's your next audition, and when does the play start, and all that stuff? I'm going to have to take time off for opening night, and I need to know a couple weeks ahead of time. No one ever wants to bartend on weekends."

"Aren't you jumping the gun a bit?" he protested, laughing as he paused to wait for the street light to turn green. "Unless you know something I don't – and don't pretend you do, I know you can't see that far ahead," he warned. "Next audition's on Friday – I'm going to miss a ton of classes for it." Not that he really cared at the moment, but he probably would later, when he had to make up all the homework. "The play doesn't start until King Lear is over in a month or so, so you've got plenty of time to ask off." He considered asking her not to, then gave it up as a lost cause. She'd do it anyway, he might as well give her whatever free tickets he got.

"Hey, I don't _need_ precognition for this one," Mary objected. "Just make sure you get me and Denise really good seats. And one for that green-haired 'friend' of yours who you're taking out for ice cream to celebrate, too."

"Hold it – what?" Bobby protested, nearly dropping the phone as he crossed the street. "What do you mean, I'm taking Lorna out to celebrate?"

"Ha! She has a name!" Mary announced proudly.

Bobby groaned and closed his eyes as he stepped up onto the other curb. He'd walked straight into that one. Not that going out for ice cream to celebrate was a bad idea, but he'd intentionally _not_ been mentioning Lorna to Mary. At all, and just for this reason. "I'm not dating Lorna," he disputed.

"Well, why _not_?" Mary asked in an exasperated tone. "Honestly, Bobby, Hank says you two are damn near inseparable. Or something like that, with a whole lot bigger words that sound far too much like they came out of a Biology textbook for my liking."

"Oh, so you and Hank have been talking about me?" Bobby asked, more than a little amused. So…she'd known Lorna's name already, the brat. And no doubt her hair color, too. Which meant he might not be taking Lorna out for ice cream.

Except it really did sound like an awfully good idea…damn, he hated when she did stuff like this.

"You mean you didn't know that?" she joked. "You _know_ the only reason I gave you the info on that house was so Hank could keep an eye on my poor baby cousin for me. Of course he gives me periodic updates. He even told me you make decent pizza, which is totally unfair. You've never made _me_ pizza."

"That's because you'd want me to put weird stuff like anchovies and pineapple on it," he explained patiently. He could cook. She _knew_ he could cook, because she knew damn well he'd done most of it at home growing up, since Maddie…didn't. And she still had to express astonishment every single time. When queried, she insisted it was a cousin thing. He was still trying to figure out why it didn't apply in reverse, if that was the case.

"Tell you what," he continued as he headed up the walkway to the house, cutting off her protestations before she could really get started. "You get Denise to pick the toppings, and I'll pop over Friday night and make pizza. Fair? That way I can tell someone who doesn't already know how things went."

"Oh, I'll pretend I don't know," she conceded with a reluctant sigh. "Anyway, you're home, so I'll talk to you later. Go ask Lorna out for ice cream, and don't trip over the doormat!"

"Over the doormat? What are you – shit!" he shouted into the phone as he tripped over the new "Welcome to the Madhouse!" mat someone had obligingly put in front of the door. "Thanks heaps, Mare," he grumbled into the phone, and heard her laughing as she hung up. Sighing, he straightened up and opened the door to head inside, but his annoyance faded almost immediately and a silly grin returned to his face.

After all, it wasn't every day he had a callback. And despite being annoying, Mary was right – asking Lorna out for ice cream was totally appropriate, even if he wasn't about to tell her exactly what he was celebrating. Not yet.

XXX

An empty plate now filled only with crumbs sat on the bedside table in the attic room. On the bed, Lorna was sitting with her computer in its permanent home on her lap as she worked her way through her email. It was about all she could manage, at the moment, since she couldn't get Jean's annoying proposal out of her head.

Why hadn't she just told Jean no, flat out? Lorna wasn't interested in a blind date. Not with this Alex person, not with anyone. She was perfectly capable of finding her own dates.

Dates weren't the problem for her. _Relationships_ were the challenge.

Dating was easy, it always had been for her. Keeping it casual, keeping up her walls, avoiding any kind of emotional involvement. It was all about two people having fun together. It was easy and superficial and light.

Relationships required a certain level emotional commitment that Lorna had never, ever been comfortable with. She'd always preferred to keep boyfriends at arms' length, avoiding letting them get to know the real her, until they eventually got fed up and broke things off.

Close friendships weren't an awful lot better. She kept up her walls, didn't let people too close, and sooner or later, they went away.

Except for Bobby.

For some rather inexplicable reason, Lorna found it next to impossible _not_ to be herself around him. She didn't feel the need to keep the walls up. He was comfortable, safe somehow, despite the fact that she was so attracted to him. It was an unusual combination for her to find.

Which was why there was no way she was going to risk screwing things up between them.

There was a tap at her door, and then the sound of someone running up the stairs two at a time. Lorna grinned knowingly to herself. Speak of the devil.

Bobby's grinning face appeared at the top of the stairs, and he dropped his backpack to the floor with a soft thump. "Hey, what's up?"

Arching both eyebrows, Lorna moved her laptop onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard, eyeing him questioningly. "Hey yourself. You're in an awfully good mood."

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked with a shrug, grin still firmly in place.

So he was in the mood to play, was he? Lorna rolled her eyes and tossed him a crooked smile. "Never said that," she pointed out with a shake of her head. "But there's usually a reason for it, so spill."

He shrugged again, and his grin took a decidedly mischievous turn. "Nothing in particular, except that it's gorgeous out and I blew off an entire day's worth of classes." She arched an eyebrow at him as he approached the bed, reached out and took her hand. He gave it a tug, still grinning. "Come on, study break for you. Let's go get ice cream, my treat."

Lorna looked at him, blinking, and finally smiled at him in bemusement as she let him urge her off the bed. "Well, you know I won't say no to an offer like that." Using her grip on his hand to keep her balance, she slipped on her shoes as she cast him a curious look. "Seriously, what's gotten into you?"

His grin turned a little bit sheepish. "Just had a really good day, that's all."

There was no point fighting, she knew that. Not when he gave her that cute little puppy dog look of his. So she squeezed his hand and nodded. "Fine, let's go celebrate your really good day. Take me to ice cream."

Bobby led her to the top of the stairs and gesturing for her to go ahead. "After you, m'lady?"

Both eyebrows arched in amusement, she started to descend the stairs, grinning over her shoulder at him. "You're going to tell me what's put you in this mood. You do realize that, right?

Stopping in his tracks, Bobby shook his head adamantly, eyes closed, grinning widely. "Nope. Not telling. Not ever. You can't make me."

With a burst of laughter, Lorna shook her head, bangs flopping in her eyes. "You're insane."

He opened his eyes with a laugh, nodding enthusiastically. "Seems I've heard that before, yeah. On the average of once every couple days."

Eyebrow arched, she smirked playfully as she trotted lightly down the stairs to the second floor hall. "I'm surprised you only hear that every few days. I'd have thought it would be a daily occurrence."

She waited all of two seconds for Bobby to join her in the hallway, and the walked down the corridor together. "Yeah well, some days I fake it pretty well. I was an acting major, remember?"

Lorna nodded as they progressed through the hallway and down the stairs to the main floor. "Yeah, and now you've sold your soul to the hideous world of business admin. Unless you've come to your senses and switched back...?"

"Nah. Just pretending for a day that I've never heard of business, so humor me."

"I do humoring. Especially when it comes to pretending evils like business admin doesn't exist."

He paused as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Need a jacket or anything?"

Far more touched by the thought than she'd ever admit, Lorna shook her head. "I should be okay, I think." Though she did snatch a pair of sunglasses out of the pocked of the jacket she had hanging on the coat rack inside the front door.

Gesturing to the door, Bobby grinned. "Then let's go. I'll pretend business admin doesn't exist, and you can pretend you've never heard of a bunch of dead dusty cultures."

Stepping outside into the late afternoon sunlight, Lorna slipped on the sunglasses she'd just picked up, and mock-glowered at him. "I happen to _like_ dead, dusty cultures, unlike you and the Major That Should Never Have Been."

"Ignoring the latter part just because it happens to be true, if you think about dead, dusty cultures, you'll guilt trip yourself right back upstairs to your books," Bobby said with a laugh. "And then you won't get any ice cream."

The door shut behind them with a click, and Bobby wrapped his arm around Lorna's shoulders. Instantly, she nestled up against his side in her comfortable, familiar spot, and slipped her own arm around his waist, poking him. "I would not. I do take breaks, contrary to popular belief." She smirked up at him. "Besides, I would _not_ pass up free ice cream."

Bobby looked at her skeptically, but Lorna pretended not to notice. "Well, I'll concede the ice cream. The breaks, though...," he trailed off with a smile and hugged her shoulders. "You need a hobby," he announced with a decisive nod. "Something that doesn't have anything to do with digging in the dirt."

Lorna looked at him indignantly and poked at his waist again. "I have a hobby! I have _lots_ of hobbies!"

Squirming to avoid her digging fingers, Bobby grinned and raised his eyebrows in challenge. "Name one."

Lorna opened her mouth to reply, then closed it when she realized she had absolutely no idea what to say. Instead, she settled for scowling at him. "I go out and do stuff." She poked him again as she suddenly remembered, "Hey, just last weekend we went out! That counts!"

Bobby squirmed again and poked her back. "That does _not_ count! You were helping me drown my sorrows. That's not a hobby, that's a mission of mercy," he stated with a smug grin.

Sighing, Lorna relented. And had to really think hard about it for a moment before coming up with a valid example, because as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She'd lost most of her hobbies over the past four years. "I swim. That's a hobby."

Tightening his arm around her shoulders, he nodded. "Yeah, it is. When was the last time you did it, though?"

Now that she actually thought it about, she couldn't quite remember. Before she'd moved to California, that much was for sure. So… sometime at Oxford? Must have been. Lorna simply shrugged in reply to Bobby's question, though, knowing she'd just proven his point.

Bobby rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, exactly." Then he flashed a grin. "So, obviously, you're long overdue for a break."

He was right, and she hated it. "Okay, fine, so maybe I need a bit of a break," she relented with a sigh.

"You do," he agreed with a broad grin. "And ice cream."

Lorna fought her own grin in response to his. Dammit, his mood was infectious. "Definitely ice cream," she relented, lips twitching as she made a valiant effort not to smile.

XXX

Giant waffle cones overflowing with obscene amounts of ice cream in hand, Lorna and Bobby strolled down the beach, trying to find a good place to sit. The backs of their hands kept brushing, and each time Lorna tried to convince herself that she was not feeling an almost electric shock tingling its way from the spot where they touched, up her arm and to the back of her neck. Nor did it cause her to shiver, or cause goosebumps to pimple her arms.

And she was almost succeeding in making herself believe it.

Almost.

They reached what they seemed to think, by silent mutual agreement, was a good spot, and kicked off their shoes before plopping down into the sand. Lorna looked out at the water for a long moment, licking at her ice cream. She was being stupid, obviously. And she needed to stop before she screwed things up.

It was _Bobby_.

"So, have you decided what you're gonna do about the Wedding o' Doom?" she asked finally, glancing over at him to gauge his reaction. She curled her toes into the wet sand, letting them sink in deeper as the surf came in and swept gently over her feet.

He made an attempt at not reacting at all, opting instead to just lick his own cone, but then seemed to deflate slightly. "Not really," he sighed. His brow furrowed slightly, and she could practically feel the indecision rolling off him. "A part of me wants to go, just on principle, y'know?"

Nodding, Lorna watched him carefully. If she stayed quiet, he'd talk it out himself, that much she knew. And he seemed to need that.

"If I don't go, it's like I'm letting her win, or something," he continued around a mouthful of ice cream. His lips curved into a lopsided smile. "Can't do that – I'd have a houseful of former roommates who'd never let me live it down."

Again, she nodded, running her tongue over the ice cream. Bobby's gaze dropped from her eyes for a moment, seemingly focused on her cone, and her heart seemed to jump slightly at the expression she thought she saw briefly cross his face. But then, before she could be sure, his eyes quickly snapped back up again, meeting hers for a moment, almost searchingly, before turning back out toward the water.

"But, I mean…what's the point? Even if I go, I'll end up looking like a pathetic loser, right? Nothing's changed." He sighed and hung his head slightly. "I wouldn't even have a date."

"Sure you would," she corrected, without even thinking about it. "I'll go with you."

Bobby chuffed out a laugh and looked over at her with a wan smile. "Thanks for the thought, Lorna, but I don't need a pity date to Opal's wedding."

Thwapping his arm soundly, she scowled at him. "It wouldn't be a pity date," she argued. "It would be a 'let's get back at the evil bitch that hurt you' date."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, come on," she hedged, grinning at him. "It'd be beautiful revenge. I'll pay my own way, and even pitch in for the gift." Bobby looked ready to protest again, and Lorna cut him off. "I promise, I actually clean up not too bad. I'll even buy a _dress_ to wear." She arched an eyebrow, grin spreading. "That right there should tell you how serious I am. A _dress_, Bobby."

Finally, he laughed, grinning back at her. "But your reputation would be ruined," he quipped. "You'd be seen with me, _and_ in a dress. What would people think?"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," she nodded sagely. Bumping his shoulder lightly with her own, she smiled up at him. "See the things I'd do for you?"

Bobby caught her eyes again, and held her gaze for a long moment. Then he smiled back at her, reaching up with his free hand to brush a wind-blown strand of hair out of her face. Lorna fought the urge to let her eyelids flutter shut as his fingers just barely brushed along her cheek before pulling away.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, and she could hear the hope in his voice.

"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't prepared to follow through," she pointed out. Really, he should know her better than that by now. "Besides, you said yourself I need a break. I think a weekend in the Big Apple definitely qualifies."

Bobby shifted his ice cream cone to his far hand, and wrapped his arm around Lorna's shoulders, hugging her against him. "I hope you realize what you're in for," he chuckled, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "You're going to have to deal with me hanging on you all weekend, so we can give a convincing performance."

Her stomach flipped, and she tilted her head back to grin at him. "Do your worst," she challenged cheekily. "I can handle anything you can dish out."

Dark brown eyes seemed to bore into hers, and she fought to hold his gaze, even as his eyebrows climbed high and he grinned evilly. "Anything?"

"Anything."

And before she knew it, Bobby was pulling her closer, reaching down and grasping her hand and lifting it between them. Wagging his eyebrows, eyes still latched to hers, he leaned in and gave her ice cream a long, thorough lick.

The air between them seemed to thicken strangely around them, and Lorna couldn't seem to look away. Nor, it seemed, could she stop herself from swaying towards him, eyes on his mouth. Bobby's grin faded, and he slowly lowered the ice cream cone. He seemed to be coming closer, and Lorna's breath caught in her chest, and god, she wanted to just swoop in and cover his mouth with hers, kissing him until they were both breathless…

But the ocean, which had been creeping steadily towards them for the past couple of minutes, seemed to have ideas of its own, as it chose that moment to unleash a much larger wave. With a shocked little squeak, Lorna lifted her ice cream cone high enough to avoid being damaged, and she and Bobby both scrambled to their feet. They looked at each other in shock for a minute, and then burst out laughing.

"Shit," Bobby suddenly exclaimed, dropping his ice cream cone and making a dive for his shoes, which were at serious risk of being floated out to sea.

Still laughing, Lorna used her powers to snag her sandals by their metal buckles before they suffered the same fate. Sandals in one hand, ice cream in the other, she looked down at herself and shook her head. Her jeans were now a sopping dark indigo, and her white t-shirt was pretty much transparent from mid-body down. Thankfully, the wave hadn't been high enough to fully qualify her for a wet t-shirt contest.

Bobby emerged from the surf victorious, and dumped the water out of his shoes. Then he turned to grin sheepishly over at Lorna as he tried to wipe the sand off his soaked shirt and pants.

Laughing at the both of them, she shook her head bemusedly. "I'm thinking it might be time to head back to the house..."

And then she was overcome by a fresh bout of laughter as Bobby's abandoned ice cream floated past her feet, before being dragged back out to sea. Giving her a mock-indignant look, Bobby slipped his arm around her and gave her a great big hug, pressing against her evilly to try to rub off as much of the sand as possible on her own shirt.

"Hey," she protested through her laughter, trying to squirm away. But Bobby only grinned and held her tighter. "Be nice or I'll take back my offer," she threatened, the effect of which was completely ruined by her girly squeals and laughter.

"You wouldn't," he stated knowingly, still holding her. "You're going to have way too much fun messing with all my old buds."

"Nope," Lorna laughed, shaking her head adamantly, finally wriggling free. She stumbled a few steps, but then caught herself. And with an impish grin, she took off down the beach, knowing that Bobby would follow.

* * *

_**Coming soon, Chapter 5  
**__**Feedback always appreciated!**_


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